


Let's Fall in Love for the Night

by Kelleesi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty in the sense that they are both insecure idiots, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, FWB, Friends With Benefits, Idiots in Love, Jealous!Gendry, Lovers falling in love, Multi-POV, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn Feelings-Wise, Smut & Humour & Idiocy, not in the sense that anything actually happens lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24277012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelleesi/pseuds/Kelleesi
Summary: She awoke to birds chirping in an infuriatingly cheerful fashion, a splitting headache, and a growing sense of impending doom. The more she took stock of her surroundings and the clearer her hazy memories from the night before became, the more sure she was that she was completely fucked.Literally.And also, you know, in a more general sense.ORArya & Gendry accidentally spend the night together. Once. But it won't happen again. Obviously.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 832
Kudos: 737
Collections: Still Rowing: A Gendrya Centric Fanfic Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is inspired by "Let's fall in love for the night" by Finneas
> 
> As always, I'm just here for a good time, and as always, I am made of glass <3
> 
> If you're having fun feel free to let me know otherwise my brain may convince me that this is a dumpster fire :)

She awoke to birds chirping in an infuriatingly cheerful fashion, a splitting headache, and a growing sense of impending doom. The more she took stock of her surroundings and the clearer her hazy memories from the night before became, the more sure she was that she was completely fucked.

Literally.

And also, you know, in a more general sense. 

Behind her, sleeping peacefully and breathing soft puffs of air onto the back of her neck, was Gendry Waters. More immediately problematic, however, was the fact that his hand was comfortably resting on her very bare breast and his hard-on was pressed against her very bare ass.

Her heart rate began to accelerate as she frantically tried to piece together the previous night. The evening started off very clear - they had been drinking at Last Hearth, as they did most Friday nights. It was close to uni, close to Jon’s, close to Sansa’s - close to everything, really. That’s why it was their spot. She’d had quite a few beers (clearly, if the pounding in her head was any indication), and... what else had happened? She willed herself to think. Sansa had gone home fairly early, she remembered that for certain. She wasn’t always feeling 'fun'. That left her, Jon, Gendry, and Theon. Okay. Jon had -

She rolled her eyes, and immediately regretted it as her brain protested against the movement. Jon had made a show of covering her ears and telling the boys ‘not to wait up’ as he departed, looking far too pleased with himself. She’d stayed behind, her and Gendry had played darts (Gendry is _terrible_ at darts, the whole thing had been far too amusing), and then...

She remembered him saying he would walk her home - but he didn’t, clearly, as they weren’t in her dorm room that she shared with Meera Reed. She could only assume that they were in his bedroom. In his apartment. That he shared with Jon. Her older brother. _Fuck_ , why was this her life?

_Okay, can't panic - gotta stay focused, here._

So, he clearly didn’t walk her home. She remembered them walking though - or, stumbling, to be fair - and a lot of laughing. And a lot of… touching? He had his arm around her waist for some time for sure. Was there a piggyback ride at some point? Seven Hells. Regardless, they had ended up here. 

This part of the night was coming back to her in snippets - quick flashes, half of which she couldn’t even be completely sure were real events or just figments of her imagination.

She was pressed against the door, and he was kissing her like he might die if he ever had to stop. She was on the kitchen counter, with her legs spread wide as he touched her. She was gasping on her back in his bed while he did things with his _tongue_ \- okay, she needed to hop off this dangerous train of thought real quick. Her body was betraying her as she remembered flashes of things he had done, things he had _said_ \- 

This would not do. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears and she felt her nipple stiffen beneath his palm. She could feel the heat pooling between her thighs, and a delicious ache - she had definitely been fucked last night, and it had been a while, and she relished the slight soreness she could already feel. Still, she wanted more - wanted to roll her hips back against him, slide his length along her wet entrance, have him wake and sink into her… but she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that.

Right?

Right. Of course not. He was her brother’s roommate. They were drunk last night - drunken slip-ups happen sometimes! Completely sober morning-afters though… those are harder to brush off. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. There was a simple solution here. She would just quietly slip out of the bed, gather her things, and carry on with her day and the rest of her life like nothing ever happened.

Except that she had slept with _Gendry_. Her brother's roommate who she sees pretty much every single day and who she now knows is not only extremely fit, and genuinely nice (as much as he would always try to hide it behind furrowed brows and crossed arms), and funny in the best, stupid way… he is also undoubtedly a mind-blowing lay. How was that at all fair?

 _Shit._ She had to get out of there. Really, really had to. Before Jon got home and all hell broke loose. 

Or she did something earth-shatteringly daft like try to fuck Gendry again.

***

Untangling herself from his limbs proved to be more difficult than she had anticipated. Her progress was likely hindered by the fact that a large part of her didn’t really _want_ to leave, a large part of her wanted to stay right where she was and go over last night’s activities with her sober goggles and some lights on so she could really and truly appreciate everything - but no. That was not an option. 

When she tried to scoot away, he made a small whining sound (one that she would just love to mock him for later if only she weren’t too busy pretending this never happened and possibly avoiding him for all of eternity), slid his hand down around her waist and pressed her flush against him again. He let out a peaceful little sigh and seemed perfectly content to just keep on sleeping, despite the fact that she was having a crisis beside him and realizing that the longer she lay there frozen, the higher the chance of Jon coming home and catching them was. The drama and brooding and ‘broken bro-code’ discussions that would ensue were just _not_ on her list of things she had the patience to deal with today.

With that in mind, she steeled her resolve and properly escaped from his handsy embrace. And if a secret, small, hidden part of her missed his warmth and the feel of his muscled arms around her (and, okay, yes, the feel of his cock against her wasn’t the _worst_ either) - well, that was really nobody’s business, now was it?

She began tiptoeing around the room attempting to collect her clothing from the night before, choosing to decidedly ignore how widely scattered the items appeared to be, and what that implied about her state during their removal.

***

Gendry was having a good dream. Like, a _really_ good dream. A dream that involved Arya Stark, the completely off-limits little sister of his roommate Jon Snow, very little clothing, and all the time in the world. He was kissing his way down her chest and feeling rather pleased with himself as she made these little sighing noises. He cupped her breast and lightly brushed his thumb over her nipple, about to take it into his mouth -

“Fuck - shit -”

All of a sudden he was wide awake. He shot up in bed and located the source of the disturbance. Right in front of him was Arya Stark, the very star of the dream he had just been having, and she was -

She was hopping around on one foot, gripping the other one and swearing profusely. Somehow, that wasn’t the thing that first caught his attention. The first thing he noticed was her state of undress, as she was wearing an oversized ripped old band t-shirt and…

Nothing else.

His eyes widened as he took in her slim, toned legs, and -

He rubbed his hands over his face. Okay. This was some inception-style shit right here. His dream had taken an odd turn, but he thought it still had potential. Arya was still in it, and she still looked fucking good, and he was definitely still hard -

He recognized that shirt, actually. He’d seen Arya wear it before. She’d been wearing it last night, as a matter of fact. This dream was far more realistic than he was used to. 

Arya finally released the foot she had been holding and griping about, and their eyes met. 

That’s when everything went to absolute shit.

Because he was sure, if this was his dream, she would be a lot happier to see him. Her eyes wouldn’t be widening in a panic, like they were now, and she wouldn’t be whisper-yelling at him to tell her where he’d ‘thrown her damn knickers’ -

That was the precise moment that he realized all of this was real, and he’d absolutely seen Arya wearing that shirt last night and he’d absolutely torn it off of her in a frantic hurry, and he’d -

 _Fuck_.

Seven Hells, he wished he wasn’t so slow on the uptake in the mornings. The pieces came together slowly, but as soon as they did he wished they’d fall right back apart again and he could pretend he was just having a nice, harmless sex dream about his roommate's sister.

Was that too much to ask?

Dread was running through his veins, as he remembered pinning her to the door, and his desperate hands all over her, and watching her -

_Fuck._

This was never supposed to happen. He had meant to keep this part of himself locked away, very deep inside, until eventually his nearly overwhelming attraction to her just went away on its own. (No, he hadn’t made much progress so far, fuck off.) Why did he have to go and mess everything up? He liked living with Jon. He liked (almost) everything about his current situation. He liked _Arya_ , for fuck’s sake. And now him and his stupid cock had gone and fucked it all up.

He was an idiot.

“Oh, no, Gods, shit, _fuck_!” He realized, belatedly, that all of the words had escaped out of him in a low, horrified moan. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Arya mumbled flatly, still frantically searching around his room. She must still be looking for her knickers. That he had supposedly thrown. He figured he’d best help her - that would be the gentlemanly thing to do in this situation, would it not? He sat up, but -

Shit. He, himself, was quite naked, here. With that realization went the last, minute shred of hope he had that he was confused about what had happened last night. He was also still fucking hard - Gods dammit. Her prancing about in front of him with no bottoms while memories of last night flashed through his brain was not doing him any favours. 

Arya huffed and glared at him, hands on her hips.

“Look, this isn’t my finest moment either, alright, but can you get a fucking grip, please?” She was still whisper-yelling at him. He wished it wasn’t so attractive. He was still trying to get rid of his poorly-timed hard-on. Her words registered to him, and he found himself frowning, before whisper-yelling right back.

“Sorry, I don’t wake up like this _often_ , alright, so excuse me -”

“Oh, Gods, can we skip the ‘I don’t usually do this’ part, _please_ -”

“Well I _don’t_ -”

“Yes, you seemed shy as a maid last night, pounding away -”

“I sure don’t remember you _complaining_ about it at the time -”

“ _Shh!_ ”

Gendry looked at her, affronted.

“You _shh_ -”

“No, I’m serious, shut up, I think I heard -”

“Jon!” They both shut up at that. Their eyes locked, frantic and wide. Because that voice was… Theon. Talking to Jon.

Had Theon been here... all night? Theon didn’t even live here. Either way… Jon was definitely here, now.

This was _not_ good. 

“Go out the window,” he urged at Arya, pleadingly.

“Excuse me?” She looked _extremely_ unimpressed, and, some other time, when he _had_ time, he could worry about that, but right now -

They had to get her the hell out of here somehow. It’s not like she could just waltz out the front door. How would they ever explain that? Thank the Gods he lived on the ground floor. He could hear Jon and Theon conversing - their voices seemed to be getting louder. He widened his eyes at Arya and gestured to the window in desperation.

She tore at her hair in frustration, still apparently unable to locate her damn knickers. He had no recollection of removing them, but he supposed he must have, at some point. The thought sent a bolt of heat through him (still at a _very_ inconvenient time). Grumbling to herself, she pulled her denim skirt on and slammed her feet into her sneakers, before shooting him the filthiest glare he’d ever been on the receiving end of.

He gulped. That was not the look you wanted to get the morning after bedding a woman. His heart sank. Even if Jon somehow _didn’t_ find out about this… things with Arya were clearly ruined, regardless. He was such an _idiot_. She shoved the window open, and he struggled between relief that she was going to get away without Jon seeing and panic that she was leaving and never wanted to see him again because they’d -

“This is extremely undignified,” she hissed, half-way out the window. “You owe me so many fucking beers.” She hopped the rest of the way out, shot him one last dark look, and then she was gone. 

Gendry exhaled heavily, and flopped back down onto his bed with a groan. Beers had been how this whole mess got started in the first place. _Now_ what the fuck was he supposed to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're idiots

Arya willed her heart rate to slow as she stomped back to the dorms. She was thankful that Jon’s place was only a short walk away. That was a small miracle, considering the way things in her life were currently going. She was hungover, it was fucking hot out, she was bare as a babe beneath her skirt, and she’d…

Gods, she couldn’t get the image of Gendry out of her head. She wished she meant that in a fun, pleasant way, but it was more… she was stuck on the look on his face when he’d realized what had happened. 

Arya wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt more embarrassed. She herself didn’t necessarily make it a _habit_ of having one night stands, but she’d never had someone be so horrified to have slept with her. She wondered where all of his disgust and righteous indignation had been last night, because she’s pretty sure he started the whole damn thing.

(Not all the way sure. But, like. _Pretty_ sure.)

Well, that was _fine_. If sleeping with her was the worst thing to ever happen to him, he’d just have to find some way to deal with it, because he couldn’t very well take it back now. She thanked the Gods that she’d resisted her initial urges to go for round two this morning - she shuddered to think how he would have reacted to _that_. She would likely never have been able to recover. 

She’d finally reached her room, and was fully prepared to fling herself onto the bed in a very dramatic fashion before focusing all her energy on forgetting the past twenty four hours - she was interrupted, though, by Meera’s screeching.

Arya realized that Meera was probably speaking at a fairly normal volume, actually, and _Gods,_ she really needed a glass of water and a nap. And a shower. And a time machine. She wished this cursed ‘Long Summer’ would end - she just wasn’t built for heat like this. It’s no wonder she was off making bad decisions and feeling like trash. 

She squinted at Meera through all her laughter and exclamations along the lines of ‘walk of shame’ (that hit _far_ too close to home), ‘don’t you ever answer your phone’, ‘you’re lucky I know you can handle yourself or I would have had to call your brother or something’ (Oh, Gods - her brother. How would she ever go see Jon again when Gendry was always fucking there?!). Arya went along with her initial plan, and flung herself face-first onto the bed with a self-pitying moan.

“Yikes. So it was a bad night, then?” Meera was still getting far too much enjoyment out of this. Arya would feel disgruntled if she had any emotional capacity left for something like that. She just whined into her pillow again.

“Oh come on, now I _have_ to know. Was it a micro-peen? Did he want to do some weird foot stuff? Oh! Did he start crying in the middle?” Arya raised her face to frown at Meera. What the hell kind of nights was _she_ having? Maybe she should re-evaluate the severity of her current problem. But then she remembered how she’d left, and how she’d desperately thrown out that he had to buy her more drinks so she’d have some reassurance that they’d see each other again, despite having already decided that the best course of action was to avoid him - what in seven hells was wrong with her? She flopped her head back down and groaned.

“I was with Gendry.” It turns out that confessing directly into your pillow does an excellent job of obscuring what you’re actually saying. Meera let her know as much. Reluctantly, she repeated herself, head raised an inch off the pillow. 

Meera started screaming again - did she not realize how unpleasant that was when Arya was dealing with a Gods-damn hangover?

“ _Fit_ Gendry? Gendry from _Jon’s_? Oh my Gods, tell me everything. There’s no _way_ you didn’t have a good time. Have you _seen_ him? Okay, but wait - I didn’t know if he even _liked_ girls, you know when anyone tries to talk to him he’s always so…” Arya glanced up at Meera to find her doing what she supposed was meant to be an impression of Gendry, with her arms crossed and a severe frown on her face. Arya snorted.

She remembered Gendry’s hands on her, and his lips brushing her ear while he told her a very bold list of things he’d like to do to her -

To her dismay, the memory sent a spark of arousal straight through her, and her clit throbbed while heat flooded her face. She’d thought that maybe the subsequent embarrassment that had followed would stop her from getting so riled up at the memory of the previous night. At least a little.

Apparently not.

“He definitely likes girls.”

She could see Meera’s point, though. She’d never actually seen Gendry really interact with any potential… ladies. He barely even spoke to Sansa when she came to the pub, and she sat at their table. Against her will, images of him flashed through her mind. Of his blue eyes, and how they could seem clear as a summer sky or as dark as the sea in a storm, depending on his mood. Of the way his arms would sometimes strain against his shirt when he’d cross them over his chest (was that why he always sat that way?). Of his strong jaw, which more often than not was clenched in annoyance and _why_ did that just make him all the more attractive?

Sure, he didn’t talk to girls much.

He probably didn’t _have_ to, not when he looked like that.

Ugh.

“I don’t know why you aren’t more pumped about this. Was it actually bad?” 

Arya sighed, and resigned herself to the fact that Meera was not going to let her get away with no details here. She sat up, and tried to ignore the flaming heat that she knew was present on her cheeks. She stared at the wall above Meera’s head. Maybe that would make this less humiliating.

“Of course it wasn’t bad. It was...” 

She broke off hopelessly and waved her arms about a bit. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She only half-remembered it anyway, but the parts she did remember -

Fuck, she had to stop thinking about it. Every time she did, all she wanted was to have it happen again. Like, right now. 

“Okay, so, indescribable. Nice. Still failing to see the issue, here.”

“The issue - Gods, you should have seen him this morning. He was totally freaked out and he for _sure_ wishes it never happened -”

“He did _not_ say that.”

“He didn’t have to! Trust me, if you had been there, you would have seen -”

“Gods, you can be so dramatic. He’s probably worried about _Jon._ You know, your brother, who he lives with? The only person who’s an even bigger drama queen than you are?”

Arya chewed on her lip. As much as she tried to resist it, she felt a sprig of hope bloom in her chest. Meera did have a point. Arya, herself, had been worried about Jon’s drama upon waking. 

Maybe she was right. Maybe Gendry’s displeasure didn’t have as much to do with _her_ , personally, so much as… the situation. That could be a thing, right?

So then, maybe -

She’d have to find out for sure, of course. But if his main concern was Jon… well, she wasn’t going to let _that_ stand in her way. Jon was dramatic, it was true, but he sure as hells didn’t run their lives. And it was really none of his business, anyway. Who said he even had to _know_? If that was the only problem… she could work around that.

The thought sent a thrill through her. 

“You think?” Because, as much as Meera could be right… he really hadn’t seemed pleased to find her in his room. Meera hadn’t _been_ there, she didn’t experience it first-hand. Her first instinct could have been bang on. 

Meera rolled her eyes. 

“ _Yes_ , I do. You, my dear, are a catch and a half. Plus… you really think you would have had such an… ‘indescribable’ time if he wasn’t into it?” Arya tried to fight the smile that was creeping onto her face. She made another good point. Gendry certainly had seemed… enthused. At least, at the time. From what she could recall. And that _was_ part of what had made it so…

She steered her thoughts away quickly as another spike of arousal ran through her. This was not the time for that. 

But she couldn’t have imagined the way he’d kissed her, and how fiercely he’d gripped her, and the way he’d _looked_ at her - right?

“So?”

Arya brought her gaze back to Meera and blinked blankly. She’d been a bit lost in her thoughts. Meera looked at her innocently. 

“Is he… proportionate?”

Arya covered her face in her hands and flopped back onto the bed at this. She couldn’t think about Gendry’s cock right now - why was Meera doing this to her?

Because _God’s,_ he’d felt so -

She let out a pitiful whine, and prayed that Meera’s theory was right, because she didn’t know what she would do if she couldn’t have him again. 

***

Gendry remained in his room, as best he could, for the remainder of the day. The thought of running into Jon, when he was fairly certain he could still smell Arya on his sheets - it made his stomach drop with dread. 

He was _completely_ certain he couldn’t look Jon in the eye after -

Gods, it was all he could think about. And it had been better than he had ever imagined or dreamed (and that was saying something. He’d had quite a number of vivid imaginations _and_ dreams). How could he have let this happen?

He hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t often have mornings like this. He wasn’t a _saint_ , alright, he’d had… nights, before. But not all that frequently. Not since he’d moved North. 

_And not since you met Arya._

He pushed that thought aside, but almost immediately wished he hadn’t when a new thought overtook it. One that made his stomach twist in the worst of ways. 

He wondered how often _Arya_ had mornings like theirs. She hadn’t seemed nearly as frazzled as he’d been. Maybe it was a fairly common occurrence for her. Par for the course, and hardly worth thinking about again. (He recognized, vaguely, that this would probably be the best-case scenario actually. If it was hardly worth thinking about again, they could get back to normal much more easily.)

Somehow, despite that realization, the thought left a decidedly unpleasant taste in his mouth. Groaning, he rubbed his hands over his face. He had to get a grip on himself. Nevermind that having Arya around had been torturous enough _before_ any of this happened (and it would undoubtedly only be worse now). He’d just have to… keep his distance. Even more than before. Because he’d been _trying_ (really, he had) ever since the first time he met her. 

She’d shown up at the apartment the day he’d moved in, a whirlwind of energy and easy smiles and laughter - not to mention the fact that she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen (and definitely the best ass. He’d love to say he was a gentleman and kept his eyes averted after he first noticed. That would be a lie). He’d clammed up immediately, overwhelmed by her presence and her exuberance and her near incessant chatter. He didn’t think she noticed that he wasn’t contributing much, more than happy to fill the silence on her own. And when Jon popped out to pick up a pizza, and told Gendry to ‘keep an eye on her’ - he was entirely sure Jon would not be making requests like this if he knew the type of thoughts that were running through Gendry’s mind.

He probably shouldn’t be as shocked as he was, really, to find that he had failed so spectacularly at keeping it in his pants around her. He never should have let his guard down. Never should have stayed at the pub with her, laughing and drinking at least two more beers than he normally would have had. Never should have offered to walk her home - he felt a hot trail of guilt run through him at that memory. He was doomed the minute those words left his mouth. He knew better than to let himself be alone with her. But he hadn’t cared. He’d felt… daring. Confident.

 _Reckless_.

He’d been riding high on a buzz from more than just alcohol. He’d been emboldened by the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d smiled and teased him, how she would lean in close to laugh in his ear -

And she looked so good, like she _always_ did, and both Jon and his conscience were nowhere to be found, and for once in his life he just thought…

_Fuck it._

The same thought ran through his mind when he first kissed her, on the sidewalk outside his building when he realized he hadn’t taken her back to her dorm at all (his subconscious clearly had a hidden agenda, and he hadn’t noticed until it was far too late). And then after that -

After that, he hadn’t thought about much at all (although, if memory served, he’d certainly had a lot to say. He hoped her memory did _not_ serve, at least not in relation to that particular aspect. Because surely he’d given himself away, shown how many times he’d thought about something like this, shown just how _badly_ he had wanted her. How would she ever act normal around him again, if she _knew?_ ). 

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. Well, he had never claimed to be perfect. He’d fucked up, that was obvious, but… he couldn’t very well go back and change it. All he could do was be better in the future. And it wouldn’t happen again. He’d screwed up, yes, but he could… learn from this. He remembered the look on Arya’s face that morning when she’d left and couldn’t help but snort to himself. It _definitely_ wouldn’t be happening again, whether he learned any lessons or not. She was furious with him, and disgusted besides.

He should talk to her, though. He would try. In private. Well - in public ( _obviously_ \- he just said that he would learn from his mistakes) but… just the two of them. He could apologize properly for the window incident, and let her know that he was very aware that it was a one-time thing, and he had a grip on himself now, so she had nothing to worry about.

He wished the thought didn’t make him feel so miserable.

***

Arya tried to calm her racing thoughts as she waited for Gendry. Her stomach had done some embarrassing gymnastics when he’d texted her, asking to meet here. It had been days since… _it_ had happened, and she was seriously unimpressed with her inability to get a grip about it. She had taken to only letting herself remember the details (what details she could, anyway) of their night together when she was… very much alone. Otherwise, she’d find herself far too wound up with no immediate options for release and that -

That just wasn’t good for her mood, alright?

She’d just never had a night… quite like that, before. She didn’t know why she was surprised, really. She knew Gendry was fit - everyone knew. It wasn’t something that was, like, up for debate. But it was still sometimes hard to reconcile, in her mind, the often silent and kind of brooding Gendry with… what she’d seen that night. He’d certainly been a lot less shy and a lot less quiet than she ever would have expected. _She_ definitely hadn’t ended up being particularly quiet either, and, frankly, it seemed a bit of a waste to never have him again if he was going to make her lose her mind the way he had. It sort of seemed, to her, that if something was going to feel like _that_ , it was the sort of thing she should keep doing.

Or at least try again _once_. Maybe, if that happened, it would… relieve her frustrations, somewhat. She was probably so flustered because she didn’t remember everything. Trying to fill in the fuzzy bits on her own was definitely part of the problem. 

Surely, if she had him again, at least _once_ , she would know for sure. (Know _what_ , exactly - she had no clue. She’d figure that out later.)

And now she was sitting at the campus coffee shop, resisting the urge to bite her nails as she waited for him, and doing the best she could to ignore the stupid fluttering in her stomach that had been getting worse all morning. She could count on one hand the amount of times they’d actually spent time together alone. One, obviously, was ‘that night’, while the other… 

_“Gods fucking shit, are you kidding me?” She stomped her foot on the gas pedal repeatedly, despite knowing that it would do absolutely nothing to solve her current problem. One that was entirely of her own making, because she was a giant idiotic idiot -_

_She slammed her hand against the steering wheel, before slumping back against her seat and sighing. Her hands shook slightly as she got out her cell phone, and she tried to calm herself down. It was fine, really_ **_not_ ** _a big deal, it was just frustrating as_ **_fuck_ ** _and made so much worse by the fact that it was completely avoidable if she wasn’t such a moron -_

 _She took a deep breath before calling the mechanic. She told them the problem, gritting her teeth as they paused before coughing lightly and saying they would get someone out to her right away. She threw her phone to the side and huffed. She_ **_knew_ ** _it was dumb, she didn’t need some ass-hat on the phone judging her -_

_She attempted to take a deep breath, and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d likely have to wait at least a half hour, if not more. For the first time in her life, she wished she’d listened to Sansa as she prattled on about meditation and the right techniques (something about breathing, breathing was definitely a big part of it - that was kind of all she remembered, though. So. Still seemed like she was missing some key information). She tried to breathe slowly, and appreciate the slight breeze flowing through her open windows, and think of something soothing, like maybe a nice babbling brook, or a majestic waterfall -_

_And, now she had to pee. Fucking great. Meditation was officially the worst. She drummed her fingers against her steering wheel repeatedly, trying to distract herself from the fact that she all of a sudden desperately needed a restroom. Could the mechanic not hurry up, honestly, were there really that many people needing assistance right now?_

_As if on cue, she heard a rumbling behind her, and whipped her head around to see a truck heading her way. Thank the fucking Gods. She closed her eyes once again, this time in a quick silent prayer that was almost immediately dashed by -_

_“Arya?”_

_Her eyes snapped open, and she wondered if it was possible to make herself physically disappear. Because standing in front of her, wearing a frown and the stupidest blue mechanic’s outfit she’d ever seen, was Gendry Waters. She felt heat creep up her face. She didn’t particularly want anyone to know about this, so him showing up here was just about the least convenient thing she could think of. She just glared back at him, as if it was his fault he was the one to answer her call._

_“What’s the problem here, then?” Gods, she wished it wasn’t him. She wished it was someone else, some kindly old man named Rolf, or something, who would tell her about how things were ‘back in his day’ as he politely filled her tank before heading off on his merry way, never to be seen again -_

_She shifted her glare back to the steering wheel, and bit out the truth._

_“Ran out of gas.” She was pointedly refusing to look at him, thinking that maybe if she didn’t, she could pretend he wasn’t there._

_Until she heard what sounded almost like a_ **_laugh_ ** _\- but that couldn’t be right. Gendry didn’t laugh. Ever. She whipped her head around -_

_He was definitely laughing. At her. And she was almost mad about it, but she’d never actually heard him laugh, or seen him smile, and something about it was ridiculously beautiful (that is, until) -_

_“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.” She felt her nostrils flare, and her bad mood was back in full force. This was the day he decided to have a personality, and he was going with ‘little shit’? Really?_

_“Are you always this big of a dick to paying customers?” He looked surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting her to have been affronted by his decision to openly mock her._

_“Yes. Bigger, usually.” Their eyes met, and a moment passed where neither of them said anything, and then -_

_She couldn’t tell you why, but she was laughing, as the absurdity of the whole damn situation caught up to her and she had nothing else to do. Sometimes laughing is the only thing there is. She should tell Sansa_ **_that_** _, next time she went on about how helpful it was to meditate. Gendry ran a hand through his hair, looking relieved and shooting her another grin. His eyes were really fucking blue - he should have to wear a different coloured outfit. It just wasn’t fair, this way._

_“You know there’s this new thing… right on your dash. Lets you know when you’re low on gas. Beeps, and everything.” He had shoved his hands into his pockets, and was looking far too amused at her expense._

_“Are you trying to get killed? Is that what this is?” He was having too much fun. She couldn’t have him going around with the idea that mocking her was just… an amusing thing to do. That would not do at all._

_“‘S’called a fuel gauge.” He just blinked at her, and she could tell her was at least_ **_trying_ ** _to look serious, but his mouth was twitching and he wasn’t frowning like he almost_ **_always_ ** _was, so clearly he was still under the impression that she and her whole life was a joke (which, honestly, fair) -_

_“Okay, I see how it is, you’ve chosen death. Honestly, it’s a shame, but if you insist -”_

_“What, are you gonna run me over?” Okay, he -_

_She couldn’t decide if she wanted to throw something at him or just laugh some more. If she’d had any projectiles, she would certainly have chosen the throwing option, but given her current resources… she just laughed again._

_Gods, what was wrong with her? The stress of the day had caused her to lose her mind. At least she’d be able to get home soon, and then she could forget all about this momentary loss of sanity, where she was laughing with Gendry Waters when he was being a complete shit -_

_Oh. Right. Going home. That reminded her. She was just supposed to stop there, quickly, before -_

_She chewed on her lower lip briefly, while Gendry was still grinning._

_“Hey, could you… not tell Jon about this?”_

_His smile vanished, and he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously._

_“Why?”_

_Arya scoffed. She thought that was_ **_obvious._ ** _Because it was_ **_humiliating._ ** _Gendry could be so useless sometimes. She waved her arms about in a vague manner, trying to think of some other reason. One he might take a little more seriously than her pride._

_“He’s just… he always worries about me. I’m constantly having to remind him that I’m not a little kid.” Gendry raised an eyebrow at this, and -_

_She could have sworn his eyes dropped to her legs before snapping almost immediately back up to her face. Her stomach flipped, and she cleared her throat. Now that his eyes were on hers -_

_She’d imagined it, probably, but an unwelcome wave of heat rolled over her regardless. She tried to get back on track. She didn’t have time to be getting riled up over Gendry Waters and his stupid blue eyes, no matter where they were looking (and no matter that she knows, now, that they crinkle at the corners when he smiles)._

_“So. You can see how something like this would be… counter-productive.” Gendry just blinked. Gods, was he even listening to her? She raised her eyebrows at him, and he seemed to start._

_“Right. Yes. ‘Course.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore, instead having turned around to rustle about in the truck he’d pulled up in. He surfaced with a jerry can, and began to fill her tank. Arya blinked in confusion at his sudden change in attitude. His easy smiles were definitely gone. She was pretty sure he agreed to keep this to himself, though, so that was…_

_Her eyes trailed over him, past his broad shoulders and what was undeniably (even in his stupid outfit) a very firm backside. That was one less thing to worry about. (Nevermind that she may have just added something_ **_new_ ** _to the list. Something tall and stupid and apparently funny, even if it was at her own expense. This could be a problem.)_

Arya was interrupted from her reflections when Gendry bowled into the shop. Their eyes met, and he started towards her. Fuck, he had the nicest eyes. She didn’t think it was particularly fair how noticeable they were even from across the room. He flopped down into the seat across from her, and breathed out, “Hey.”

He seemed determined to keep his gaze somewhere above her left shoulder, and she cursed herself for deciding to drink such a large iced coffee before he’d even arrived. She felt like her whole body was buzzing, and she wasn’t sure if the flash of anxiety that shot through her was warranted or caffeine-induced. She liked to tell herself, as their meeting got closer and closer, that she didn’t care _that_ much what happened today. But the way in which she had painstakingly searched for her absolute favourite pair of knickers to wear this morning, in case he wanted to come back and take advantage of her empty dorm room immediately, _kind of_ made that sentiment lose a little bit of credibility.

***

Gendry knew, the entire time it was approaching, that this conversation with Arya was not one that he wanted to have. He wished this awareness would have translated into him being a little more mentally prepared - that didn’t seem to have happened. 

His mouth dried up as soon as he saw her, legs thrown up on the arm of the chair she was sprawled in. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with a few pieces loose around her neck. He wanted to bury his fingers in them - he curled his hands into fists instead, and sat heavily in the chair across from her, filled with dread. 

If he was doing the ‘right’ thing, then why did he have to feel so bloody terrible?

He’d gone over what he’d say (he’d done pretty much nothing else, actually, since she’d agreed to meet him), but now that he was sat in front of her, he couldn’t seem to remember any of it. How was he supposed to even start? He avoided her eyes like the coward he was - he didn’t want to see the disgust he was sure he’d find there. At least she’d agreed to meet him at all - that was a small relief. Their relationship wasn’t completely, irreparably fractured. It could be put back together. And this conversation was the first step. 

This thought fortified him slightly, and he sat up a little bit straighter. He still avoided her gaze. 

He did his best not to mumble and stammer through his apology for the whole window situation (he’s not sure he succeeded) and purposefully paused numerous times for her to interject, if she’d like. 

She didn’t say anything. After a beat or so of silence, he would panic, and just start talking again. He told her that nothing between them had to change, and he was sorry if he’d made things weird, and... he wouldn’t make a mistake like this again. Still, he waited for her to say something. Some inclination that she’d heard him (and, preferably, some sign that she forgave him and didn’t hate him now). And still, she stayed quiet. 

Finally, his resolve broke, and he brought his eyes to her face. She didn’t look at all how he’d expected - the relief he’d assumed he'd see was conspicuously absent. She was no longer sprawled in the chair, instead sitting ramrod straight and determinedly studying the table in front of them. Her cheeks looked more pink than they had when he’d arrived. She also looked like she hadn’t heard a word he’d said - he groaned internally at the thought of having to repeat himself. He’d struggled enough finding the motivation to do it the first time. 

“Arya?” Her eyes snapped to his, and he thought, for a moment, he saw -

He blinked, and her face was smooth and blank. He must have imagined whatever… he thought he might have seen. He let out a heavy breath. 

“Yes! Totally. I totally agree. We can just forget the whole thing. I’m so happy you feel the same,” she grinned at him, and he still waited for the relief he’d expected to feel. It never came, and instead he just felt… hollow. He tried to tell himself that he had no right to be upset - he’d _wanted_ her to agree. He’d wanted her to say that everything would be fine, and normal, from now on. Hadn’t he? 

“Anyway, I actually have somewhere to be. Like, right now. So. See you around!” She snatched up her bag and raced out of the shop. 

Gendry sat there for another hour, trying desperately to understand how he could feel _worse_ after that. The whole point had been to try to fix things and make up for his idiotic mistake - so why did he feel stupider than ever?

Eventually, he was asked to leave if he wasn’t going to make any sort of purchase. That seemed fair. He left the shop, and wandered home in a miserable daze. He tried not to be too dejected. He had the memory of one night with Arya - one night that was real, and had actually happened, whether they’d been intoxicated or not. That was more than he ever thought he’d have (and more than he deserved, anyway). She was _off-limits_ \- and he’d always known this. Hopefully that would stay in his stupid brain from now on. He’d just have to do his best to act normal going forward, and not like he spent most of his waking hours remembering the feel of her beneath his hands, and the sounds she made when he was inside her. He could totally do that.

Definitely.

***

Arya wondered if her ears were actually ringing, or if she was imagining it. She didn’t feel like she was all the way inside her body at the moment. Her heart thundered and her thoughts raced as she replayed the conversation with Gendry over and over. It was like a car wreck happening behind her eyes, and she couldn’t switch it off, no matter how much it made her stomach turn. 

_Gods_ , she couldn’t believe she’d actually thought that that would go any other way. She _knew_ that she was right to feel embarrassed - that had been her first instinct, and she should have trusted her gut. Instead, she’d let Meera (and her own wishful thinking) get her totally delusional to where she thought…

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to forget the look on his face as he’d refused to meet her eyes when he attempted to ‘let her down easy’. At least he’d spoken first. If she’d told him how _she_ felt about their night together, and then -

If he knew that nobody had _ever_ made her feel like that, and it was all she could think about since -

It would have been _so_ much worse. She would likely have liquefied into a puddle of human humiliation, never to be seen again. She still had her dignity, at least. Well - some of it. Barring that whole window thing. It could have been worse. 

She repeated this like a prayer, even as she willed herself to get a grip. She probably wasn’t even remembering the night right. She’d exaggerated it in her mind, most likely, into this mind-blowing thing that was probably not even… not at _all_ accurate.

But it didn’t matter anyway, because in the light of day, when he hadn’t had one too many beers, and he was thinking clearly -

He didn’t want her. 

She breathed through her nose slowly as she tried to shake off the bitter sting of rejection and the utterly absurd desire to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Arya having someone rational and sound of mind to discuss things with!  
> Sadly, Gendry does not and he subsequently forgot that sex takes two people and is really trying to dethrone Jon as 'biggest drama queen'
> 
> Feel free to let me know in the comments how long you think they can make it before boning again ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 xox


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of the week, after a significant amount of time confined to his room, Gendry had resolved that he couldn’t continue to avoid Jon. That went against the whole ‘acting totally normal’ part of his plan. So on Friday evening, he’d wandered into the kitchen, relieved to find his roommate in there alone. Arya had a tendency to come over to theirs on Fridays before they hit the pub - he realized she must have chosen to forego that, tonight. His relief quickly fizzled into disappointment. This was yet another example of how things were _not_ as they should be. Would they ever be, again? Would she just continue to avoid him from now on? That wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted her around, laughing and smiling and teasing. He wanted her shooting him sly looks whenever Jon did something particularly daft, while he tried his best to keep his face neutral. He wanted -

Well, he wanted _more_ than that, and that was the whole root of the problem. He wanted more, so much more, and with one little slip he found himself with less than ever before. His stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought, and he tried to force the frown off of his face.

Since when had what he wanted ever made a damn difference?

He nodded at Jon, who immediately (and uncharacteristically) started babbling.

“Gendry! Mate. Haven’t seen you all week. I, uh, I’ve been meaning to… um. How are you?”

Gendry stared at Jon. He noticed that he looked especially uncomfortable, and fought down a wave of dread. Did he know? Had Arya told him? He didn’t think she would, but -

He thought of her reaction to their conversation earlier in the week. He clearly didn’t understand her at all, so. What in Seven Hells did _he_ know? Jon looked like something was maybe strangling him, and Gendry wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be acting but he felt as if he might be slowly suffocating. Jon and him got on precisely _because_ they didn’t feel the need to use many words, so this wave of awkward and unnecessary small talk seemed like a very bad sign. Gendry desperately tried to school his features into a neutral, ‘I definitely didn’t fuck your little sister’ expression. He cleared his throat, and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck.

“Good, ah, been good. Same as always, you know.” He was having regrets about this. He definitely should have kept avoiding Jon. That would have been best. 

“Right, great, that’s - that’s great. Listen, I have -” Jon broke off his rambling, waved his hands at Gendry, and left the room. Gendry blinked at where Jon had just been. This was _not_ good, things were not normal here at _all_ -

Jon was back almost immediately, and Gendry still hadn’t had time to wrap his head around what was going on here.

“Theon tells me these being left in the kitchen was your doing,” Jon stated stiffly, and delicately placed the bag in front of him. Gendry felt frozen, and wondered if it was possible to just fall through the floor. That would be preferable to this, because Jon had just dropped what was undeniably Arya’s black thong, folded up in a Ziploc sandwich bag. Gendry struggled to swallow as blood rushed in his ears.

“I thought they might need to be returned to someone. I, ah…” Gendry thought it ought to be some consolation that Jon looked about as enthused about this conversation as he himself was. Somehow, it wasn’t.

“I have laundered them,” Jon continued stoically. Gendry’s eyes widened, and before he could stop it he’d barked out a laugh. He hadn’t meant to, it bubbled up seemingly out of nowhere, it surprised even _him_ , but -

If you’d told him, this time last week, that he’d be sitting here with Jon Snow having this conversation, he would have said you were out of your bloody mind. He didn’t even find any of it particularly funny, but the thought of how Jon would be acting if he knew just _who_ Gendry ought to be returning these to -

He let out another nervous, nearly hysterical laugh, and noticed that Jon actually seemed incredibly relieved by this. He clapped Gendry on the shoulder, and even let out a few chuckles of his own. Gods, he was going to the deepest of the Seven Hells, but he certainly had no desire to fill Jon in on the situation. None in the slightest.

“And look, I’m happy for you, I am, but…” Jon broke off, awkward as ever.

“This is a shared space, eh? Where we… y’know. Eat.” 

Gendry tried not to swallow his tongue as he remembered that that had been exactly what he’d been _planning_ on doing -

Arya had interrupted him, though, and dragged him down the hall, and -

He’d just gone ahead and done it in his bed, instead. The memory made his cock twitch and his heart race, and he desperately tried to veer his thoughts in a different direction so he wouldn’t be stuck in the kitchen with Jon while he sported a stiffy (which would be bad enough on its own, but made unbearably worse by the fact that it was caused by the memory of Jon’s own sister). He was a mess.

“You coming to the pub tonight?” Now that the return of the knickers and reminder of roommate boundaries had been completed, Jon seemed much more at ease. Gendry was still very focused on blocking out the memory of Arya tugging on his hair and writhing against him as he tasted her -

Unfortunately, this meant he was not thinking clearly, and before he knew it, he blurted out that yes, of course, he’d be there. Avoiding Jon’s gaze, he grabbed the Ziploc of delicate contents and escaped back to his room to…

Put them somewhere. For safe-keeping. Just for the time being, obviously. Arya wouldn’t be at the pub tonight anyway, as she was clearly avoiding him, so there was no point wandering around with them in his pocket or something. Gendry fought off a fresh wave of disappointment at her absence. He’d never been to a pub night _without_ Arya - she was the whole reason he’d even started going in the first place.

 _In the nine weeks since Gendry had moved in with Jon Snow, he had seen Arya Stark approximately (it’s not like he was counting, or anything) twelve times. In that time, she’d only reinforced his first impressions of her, in that she was funny, enthusiastic,_ **_far_ ** _too beautiful, and absolutely precious to Jon Snow. The (unlucky) thirteenth time he saw her was when he realized he was in way over his head, and he needed to get a grip. The monotony of his shift at Mikken’s automotive had been interrupted when he’d answered a routine call from someone who had run out of gas on the side of Kings Road. He’d rolled his eyes (he didn’t understand people’s stupidity sometimes) and made his way out to help this moron, grumbling to himself all the while. But when the moron in question turned out to be_ **_Arya_** _, he was shocked by how the whole thing suddenly seemed endearing instead of idiotic. He hadn’t been able to hide his amusement, and her flustered threats just made her all the more adorable. It had surprised him as much as anyone when he’d actually gotten out more than two words in her presence, and smiling and laughing with her made his chest swell with a lightness he was entirely_ **_not_ ** _used to. And then she’d gone and mentioned Jon, and he remembered (rather abruptly) why he really ought to avoid her. It was like being doused in cold water, as he was confronted (not for the first time) with just how attractive he found her, and just how inappropriate it was for him to feel this way. He resolved, after that night, that he would only see her when absolutely necessary. For the sake of his own sanity._

 _He failed spectacularly. Not even two nights later, she was back at their flat, and it’s not like he’d never seen her before but he’d never seen her… ready to go_ **_out_ ** _before. She’d been wearing some God’s-forsaken cut-up kind of shirt, and when she moved he caught sight of a flash of skin in the vicinity of her ribs, and his cock twitched as he imagined running his thumb (or, better yet, his tongue) across it -_

 _Thoughts of anything_ **_other_ ** _than Arya had completely left his brain, and he blames that for what happened next._

 _Because suddenly she was asking if he was coming with them to the pub, and he was mutely nodding his head yes, because what else was he supposed to do? Say_ **_no_ ** _to her?_

_Jon had merely frowned in confusion, as Gendry had literally told him not ten minutes before that he would be staying home. Pubs were not ‘his thing’. He didn’t like to go places where there would be… people._

_(Somehow, when those ‘people’ included Arya, any and all principles he’d thought he had had flown out the window.)_

_Gods, he was so fucked._

Since that first night, he’d gone with Arya and Jon to the pub almost every Friday. He still didn’t particularly _love_ that atmosphere (it could be loud, and there were always people everywhere, and sometimes he just couldn’t _breathe_ ), but it didn’t seem so bad when he was sitting with Arya, and she was laughing about who knows what. 

Without her, there would be literally no point in going. He frowned, and wondered how long he had to stay before he could sneak back home without anything seeming out of the ordinary. 

***

Arya resolutely shoved her feet into her scuffed black boots. Her belly was a knot of anxiety that she was forcibly ignoring. She was _going_ to the pub tonight, and if Gendry ‘I hate most human beings’ Waters felt like he should show up, at _her_ table, with _her_ siblings, well, she couldn’t care less. (She clearly could, hence the anxiety, but - she was still trying to convince herself that said anxiety was not present.) 

He wouldn’t be there. She was pretty sure. But just in case he was -

She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. She was showing more skin than she normally would, but even she had to admit that she looked _good_. Let him look at her now and act like sleeping with her was ‘a mistake’. Her heart thudded in her ears, and she took a few deep breaths. She felt like she was competing with him (she didn’t even know what for) and she knew she had to _beat_ him, and showing up dressed to kill was an important step. 

Except he probably wasn’t even coming, anyway.

Right.

Her deep breaths had done nothing to calm her nerves, and she huffed in frustration before stomping out of her room.

***

Gendry and Jon walked to the pub together in silence.

Finally, something normal.

He figured he would stay for an hour or so. One beer, maybe some chicken wings, and then it would be totally acceptable for him to go home.

He trudged into the pub behind Jon, headed towards their usual table, only to stop in his tracks when he saw -

Arya.

She was laughing with Theon, like she didn’t have a care in the world, and that was _normal_ \- so why did it feel like a knife to his gut? Bitter thoughts rushed in, about how he’d _known_ she wasn’t unable to think of anything but their night together like he was, so what in all Hells was he expecting? 

Well - he hadn’t been expecting her to be here at all, to be fair. He wasn’t prepared. And he certainly wasn’t prepared for her to look so -

Did she have to have her fucking tits out?

He forced himself to keep walking towards their table. 

She was definitely going to attract attention dressed like that. It didn’t escape his notice that that was likely her intention. He wanted to hit something. Because of course she was here, and of course she had to look like that, and of course she was wanting to catch the attention of some _guy_ -

He threw himself into the seat as far away from her as possible, knowing he was doing a terrible job of keeping the scowl off his face and not caring in the slightest. Maybe he wouldn’t even have a beer. Maybe he should just leave. 

“Gendry! Mate, just the man I’ve been waiting for!” Gendry glowered at Theon, who was eyeing him with a shit-eating grin. Gendry tolerated Theon on the best of days. Needless to say, today was not the best of days.

He crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his jaw, trying to prepare for whatever it was he was about to be subjected to.

“Listen, I didn’t know you had it in you. Honestly, I’m just proud,” Theon announced. Gendry groaned internally. He _wished_ , more than (almost) anything, that they had _known_ Theon had snuck in and crashed on the couch that night. He’s sure that, had they not assumed they were completely alone, certain things would have... happened at a lower volume.

Theon was still talking, describing what he had experienced as a third-party in far too much detail.

“And just left the knickers in the kitchen! You beast! Jon had to - Jon, tell them -”

Panicked, Gendry looked over at Jon. While he wasn’t laughing as riotously as Theon was, he did look amused. So, that was… good? Right? Somehow, given the reality of the situation, it still didn’t seem good. Fuck, this whole thing was a mess.

“Picked ‘em up with the tongs and tossed them in the wash,” Jon snorted, rubbing a hand over his face while chuckling. Theon cackled.

“With the _tongs!_ And the knickers were just the beginning, I’m telling you she made a bloody racket all night long, it was _impressive_ , really!” Theon just kept grinning at him, apparently completely unable to pick up on the fact that Gendry wanted absolutely nothing to do with this conversation. He wondered if a punch to the mouth would be enough of a social cue for him to get the message. It took all the focus Gendry had to keep his eyes away from Arya - he did _not_ want to see the look on her face during all of this.

“Hey, if you’re not gonna see her again, do you mind if I have a go? She really -”

“Are you done?” Gendry bit out. He could feel heat in the tips of his ears, and had moved on from wanting just to punch Theon in the mouth. He thought it would probably be best to knock him clean out if he didn’t stop talking. Gendry tried to calm the anger that roiled through him. He was pissed at Theon, for saying all this shit about Arya (whether he knew he was talking about her or not, it didn’t _matter_ ), he was pissed at Arya for showing up looking like everything he’d ever wanted just to torture him, and he was -

He was pissed at himself, because this whole thing was his own stupid fault because he had no semblance of self-control.

Theon must have seen something in his face, because he threw his hands up, looking slightly chastened.

“Alright, man, it’s not a big deal. I’m just teasing, just a bit of fun, you know!” Gendry ground his teeth together, before muttering out that he was going to get a drink.

Once he got to the bar, he remembered that he’d decided he _wasn’t_ going to have a beer, he was just going to go home -

He looked back over to their table, to Arya smiling at Jon, and something in his stomach clenched. As much as he probably should… he didn’t actually want to leave if she was here. Gods, he was a whipped little bitch, and she hadn’t the slightest clue. (Well - hopefully.)

Sighing, he grabbed his order, and headed back.

***

Arya wasn’t entirely sure how she thought the night was going to go when Gendry had walked through the door behind Jon. Her stomach had dropped, and she’d cursed herself for being even remotely affected. He clearly wanted nothing to do with her (no surprise there) as he avoided her gaze as if she were actually invisible. She tried her best to just act normal, no matter how forced her laughs and smiles felt. 

She wished she’d worn something else - the more he ignored her, the more idiotic she felt having tried to put on something ‘sexy’ to catch his attention (what was wrong with her? He’d already seen _all_ of her, and told her a polite ‘no thank you’, and she thought a low-cut top was going to make him… at all affected?). 

She’d thought she might die during Theon’s dramatic recap of their evening, especially as she saw Gendry’s face become more and more hostile. She felt a bitterness rising inside of her. Didn’t Theon know that sleeping with her was the worst mistake of Gendry’s life? He clearly wasn’t interested in reliving the experience and, Gods forbid, laughing about it. Arya herself tried to chuckle, like she would if the story was about anyone else. Just, totally normal Theon shit. It’s like not she wasn’t used to this. She’s not sure she succeeded, and she felt Sansa’s shrewd gaze on her a couple of times.

She ignored it.

But when Gendry stomped back from the bar, and slammed down a beer in front of her -

Was she imagining it, or did everyone at their table suddenly go silent?

Why couldn’t he act chill, ever?

Theon cried out wondering where his was, while Jon frowned in confusion before asking what that was for. Sansa remained silent, still eyeing her, which was the most worrying reaction of all.

Gendry was glaring at his own beer, looking like he wanted to set it on fire, or something. Arya cleared her throat.

“He, ah, lost a bet. Cheers,” she raised her glass in his direction, willing him to look at her - but once he did, she immediately regretted ever wishing for it. His gaze was dark, and too intense, and he looked like he was almost pleading with her for _something_ -

What in Seven Hells was he doing, looking at her like that? Her stomach lurched, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She didn’t know how to look away, even though she wanted to -

But then he did, and the spell was broken, and she could hear the indistinct chatter all around her, and fully notice just how fast her heart was going when literally nothing had happened.

That couldn’t be good. 

And Sansa was still analyzing her - that was even worse.

***

If nothing else, Arya found that Gendry appeared to respect her disgruntled demand that he owed her a significant number of beers. He dutifully brought them to her, one after the other, whenever her glass started to run low, prompting Theon to mumble, ‘must have been some bet’ after the fourth one.

Or maybe the fifth one?

She wasn't entirely sure. What she _was_ was pleasantly buzzed. Maybe, a little bit on her way to properly drunk. She didn’t feel quite so anxious anymore, and her chest was a bit flushed, and at some point Gendry had ended up on the bench beside her.

She didn’t really mind that.

She _did_ mind that he was still both ignoring and refusing to look at her, but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say.

She’d been singing along (not very well) to the catchy song that had started playing as she swayed, knocking her head against the back of the booth a little bit when Theon and Sansa said their goodbyes. She waved at them, slightly glassy-eyed, before flagging down their server and ordering another basket of fries. 

“Where’s Jon?” Gendry asked.

Arya blinked at him in confusion. Oh, was he speaking to her now? Gods, he was so unobservant. Jon had left _ages_ ago. She let him know as much, and watched as he stiffened immediately beside her.

“We should - head out too. I mean, separately. But, both of us. We should head out.” He was stammering, and staring at a spot on the wall above her again. Why did he keep doing that? Refusing to meet her eyes and mumbling a bunch of bullshit? She was suddenly (maybe irrationally, maybe not) exceptionally irritated with him. _He’s_ the one that said he wanted things to go back to the way they were, but here he was, acting as far from normal as possible. Well, she didn’t want to hang out with him if he was going to be like this anyway.

“Fine, go if you want,” she huffed. “But I’m staying.” 

Gendry glared at her, and crossed his arms over his chest (could he _stop_ doing that?).

“Arya. I’m not leaving you here alone. It’s late, you’ve been drinking -”

“I’m sure I won’t be alone for long. Someone will keep me company. Maybe him -” Gods, what was she even saying? The words felt all wrong coming out of her mouth, but she couldn’t stop them. And there _was_ a guy across the room, and he was looking at her, and _he_ seemed like he would appreciate her outfit choice, and -

Gendry threw his arm around her, and she turned to him in surprise. Her surprise quickly deteriorated into indignation when she saw the look on his face - he was shooting _daggers_ at the guy across the room, and putting his arm around her like she was _his_ and he needed to _protect_ her -

“What the fuck are you doing?” Arya demanded. She almost backed down when her outburst caused the full force of his glare to turn on her, instead. Her heart raced. A muscle in his jaw was working, and his eyes were too dark, and he was _mad_ , and he had no right to be, and none of this was _fair_ -

“You can’t just decide you don’t want me and then lose your shit at the thought that somebody else might!” She hissed at him. Her hands were shaking a bit, and she didn’t know why she felt like crying, but she could feel the sting behind her eyes - drinking was, sometimes, a bad idea, she supposed. 

Gendry reeled back like she’d slapped him, the rage that had been consuming him seemingly evaporated instantly as he looked at her with wide eyes. 

“I never said I didn’t want you.”

The words were so quiet. Why was he so quiet? She could barely hear him over the music, and the talking, and she had to _hear_ him because he wasn’t even making any sense -

“You _did!_ You said it was a _mistake_ , you said -”

“I thought that’s what you’d want!” Gendry looked frantic now, running a hand through his hair and, again, seemingly like he was pleading with her for… something. Arya tried to breathe properly past the stupid lump in her throat that she never gave permission to be there. 

“Oh.” She couldn’t really think of any other words to say. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and she didn’t know what was happening other than Gendry was right _there_ , and his eyes were wide and he wasn’t making any sense -

“Of course I _want_ you,” and the way he said it, like there was no possibility of any alternative, had her heart racing even faster. His lips parted, like he maybe had more to say, but she -

She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than what he had just expressed, because he _wanted_ her, and she wanted him, so did anything else really matter?

One of her hands fisted in the front of his shirt, while the other wrapped around the back of his neck, and before her brain could register anything else her lips were on his, and -

 _Fuck_ , he was a good kisser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading this story, I hope you're having as much fun as I am! <3  
> PS comments help me write faster I SWEAR it's a real thing ;)  
> Have a lovely day! xox


	4. Chapter 4

If Gendry had thought he’d felt a bit drunk before, it was nothing compared to now. Arya Stark was kissing him, with her tongue in his mouth and her fingers tugging on the hair at the back of his neck, each little pull sending his blood rushing south. His hands were restless, wanting to touch her everywhere at once and unable to make up his mind. He needed her _closer_ , though - that, at least, he was sure of. Reluctantly, he pulled away (and _fuck_ if the way she seemed to almost chase his lips didn’t go straight to his cock) before grabbing her by the waist and lifting her onto his lap.

She was such a tiny little thing. Easy to maneuver. His grip tightened on her waist as he took in the vision of her, straddling his hips. Her eyes were bright, her hair loose and flowing around her face, with colour high on her cheeks, and -

 _Gods_ , the way her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath made her tits look fit to burst out of this damned excuse for a top she had on -

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, as he slid his hands up and dragged his thumbs across her ribs.

“Gods, were you trying to drive me fucking crazy? Showing up here looking like this?” His own breathing seemed to be just as laboured as hers, and his cock was straining uncomfortably against his jeans. It had felt like a good idea, a moment ago, setting her here in his lap, but the press of her _against_ him might actually be torture -

“Yes,” she panted out, with a hint of her usual trouble-making smile. He tilted his head back, just a bit, to better meet her eyes. 

“Really?” It came out softer than he would have wanted, as he tried to breathe and make words at the same time. What the fuck was she doing to him? The thought that she might, actually, have done some of this on purpose -

“Are you complaining?” She had an eyebrow raised in challenge, and her fingers were playing with the bottom of his shirt, every now and again brushing against his skin just slightly. His heart hammered as heat washed over him and he let himself fully appreciate, just for a moment, that she _wanted_ to catch his attention, she _wanted_ him to want her -

Of course he wasn’t complaining. He’d never felt less like complaining in his life.

“ _Fuck_ , no.”

He pulled her close and captured her lips once again, suddenly unable to bear the thought of not having his mouth on hers for another instant. He couldn’t say how long he kissed her for. All he knew was that he never wanted to stop, and she didn’t seem to either. At some point he realized his hands had made their way to her ass, and that he was grinding her against him with an increasing sense of urgency. Or maybe she was doing it on her own, and he was just following along? He didn’t know, but when she raked her nails across his scalp he groaned into her mouth, her lips and hands and solid weight in his lap too much and yet still not enough. He reached up to tangle a hand in her hair, and tore his lips from hers to trail them down her neck. She rolled her hips more insistently (so he _wasn’t_ solely responsible for that), and when he bit into the soft skin just above her collarbone, she let out a little whine that caused him to fully lose what was left of his sanity. He lost all sense of anything but Arya. He forgot where he was, why they weren’t supposed to be doing this in the first place, the fact that she was off-limits, and that doing something like this again was bound to end with him even more fucked up than before -

Arya in his lap writhing against him and sighing into his ear was the only thing that existed. That is, until -

“Oi! You can’t do that here,” Their server slammed down a basket of fries onto their table - right. Arya had ordered those. The woman glared at them with her hands on her hips, as Gendry just stared at her blankly, heartbeat pounding in his ears and his cock throbbing almost painfully. Arya made no move to get off of him. He thought he might say something, if he remembered how to speak. He did not.

The server rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“I’m serious. I’ll bring your bill.” Their bill?

Oh, yes. For the fries. They had to pay for these damned fries that he could not care less about. These stupid fries had interrupted him. He had been in the middle of something, and, really, he did not appreciate it.

He could feel Arya’s eyes on his, and looked up at her -

He felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him as he watched her chew on her lip. He took note of the hint of a frown that had appeared on her face, and tried to quell the disappointment that had already started to swell up in him. Of course she didn’t want to _actually_ leave with him. She’d done that once before, and look what had happened then. It fucked everything up.

They both had just gotten a little bit confused, momentarily; they were drinking, and they were arguing, and tensions were running high -

Now, though, now they had a minute to catch their breath, and think things through, and they could make better decisions for themselves. Not repeat past mistakes. He took a deep breath, and tried to motivate himself to move her off of his lap. She just fit so nicely there, and he didn’t _want_ her to get off of him, but… well.

It didn’t matter what he wanted, in this case.

“It’s just…” Arya started, and he forced himself to meet her eyes. He had been a coward long enough. He could look her in the eye for this, when she said it was a bad idea, and they shouldn’t have ever started anything -

“Meera’s home. At my dorm, I mean. So.” Gendry felt like all the air had been knocked out of him. That didn’t really sound like… what he’d thought she was about to say. It sounded quite the opposite, actually. It sounded like she was fine to continue on in this same vein, if only they had a place…

But, no. They _didn’t_ have a place. Because they weren’t supposed to be doing this. He couldn’t just bring her home, _Jon_ was there, she might get seen -

Unless…

Well, he did have a window. He did live on the ground floor. It was a perfectly viable method of entering (and exiting) his room - that had already been proven.

He watched her come to the same conclusion he did, at the same time, and cocked his head at her in a silent question. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and her lips parted slightly, and he became all too aware that she was still in his lap, and his hand was still on her ass, and his hard-on was still pressed against her, and -

If she wanted this, there was nothing in all of Westeros that could make him stop now.

“Fine.”

“Really?” Last week she wanted to _murder_ him at the prospect of using that damned window. Now she was going to go along with this? He couldn’t believe his luck. Was he dreaming, maybe? 

Arya just cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You better make it worth my while.” 

He exhaled slowly, ready to tell her that he _would_ , he knew he would. He’d done well enough last time, he figured, and he’d been more drunk than he was now -

He didn’t get a chance, though, as she hopped off of him. She threw some cash onto the table, swiped the whole basket of fries, and headed for the door.

Gendry blinked momentarily, tried (and failed) to steady his breathing and re-adjust his jeans, before hastily following.

Gods, doing the wrong thing felt _so_ much better than doing the right thing. 

***

It was a warm night, and Arya couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she walked (okay, hurried) along the sidewalk with Gendry and her basket full of french fries. Honestly, what else does a girl need? She felt blissfully light compared to an hour ago, when she was ready to wage war against him and (maybe) anyone else who happened to cross her path.

None of that mattered, though, because Gendry _did_ want her, he said so, and she kissed him, and he -

He’d certainly responded with enthusiasm. She never should have listened to him when he said this shouldn’t happen again. She _knew_ she should never listen to him. He could be a complete idiot sometimes. Somehow, this thought just made her smile even more. 

She glanced over at him, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, clearly trying his best to look nonchalant and failing spectacularly. It was so cute. She popped another fry into her mouth and skipped ahead. Rushed as they were, they were still taking too damn long. This walk had never seemed so far before. She felt giddy with excitement, and she couldn’t wait to have his hands on her again, his mouth on her again -

Gods, just the thought of it had her heart racing all over again. Could he not hurry up? She didn’t have all night. (Okay, yes, she absolutely _did_ , but since when did that mean she should have to wait?) She turned back to him to let him know just that, but choked on the laughter that bubbled up inside her when his eyes guiltily snapped up to her face, and he ran a hand through his hair. A cackling laugh escaped out of her, and she shook her head to herself, continuing to hurry on ahead. If he wanted to enjoy the view from behind her, who was she to deny him, really?

As they rounded the corner to his building, _finally_ , she tossed the remainder of the fries in a bin and sucked the salt off her fingers. Damn. They were still a bit greasy - she hadn’t thought this through. Not exactly the sexiest. She tried to discreetly wipe them on her shorts. Oh, well. Good enough. Best she could do with the tools she had.

The two of them slunk along the side of the building, and she felt a bit more like a ninja spy than she would have expected. Another gleeful giggle escaped her as she approached his window. There was something terribly exciting about sneaking around in the dark like this, and she was just about to let Gendry know as much, but when she felt his presence behind her and his breath on her neck the words died in her throat. Before she had time to properly get her bearings, his arms had encircled her waist and his lips were back to the slow assault on her neck that he’d started at the pub. He kissed up behind her ear, and she shivered, exhaling softly and arching her back to give him better access. His hands trailed up under her shirt to caress her stomach, and when she pressed herself further into him she could feel his hardness against her. A spike of arousal shot through her at the thought that he was still just as riled up as she was. He wanted this just as much. He wanted _her_ just as much.

One of his wandering hands had ghosted upwards, and was squeezing her breast over her bra, as his lips continued their exploration of her neck. That, in itself, might have been enough to incapacitate her, but his _other_ hand -

His other hand had slipped _down_ , and with what seemed like all too little effort his fingers were past the waistband of her shorts and rubbing over her knickers, tortuously slowly, and she was absolutely done for.

They were so _close_ , his room was literally right _there_ , and she wanted to tease him, desperately, about the fact that he really couldn’t just wait, but -

Her legs felt shaky as he palmed her breast, and his fingers continued to lightly slide along her entrance, like a promise of what was to come. She writhed against him, silently urging him for more, and she _knew_ he knew what she wanted, but he didn’t give it to her. 

Her heart hammered in her throat and her pussy throbbed and she tried to remember why she had wanted to wait for anything. She didn’t want to wait, she wanted him to take her right here, against the side of the building for all she cared -

She’d thrown her left hand up and tangled it in his hair, hoping if she had something to hold onto she’d be less of a gasping mess. (She was not.) She was sure she’d never been touched so slowly in her fucking life and she need him to _do_ something, now, or she would - she’d -

She didn’t know what, all she knew was that the longer this went on the more she ached for him, and -

She’d never been the most patient person. She took a ragged breath, ready to let him know that he’d better fucking get on with it, if he knew what was good for him -

But then suddenly he was gone, and she felt so much colder than she had a moment ago, despite the warm air that she knew was all around them. She tried to even out her breathing and think of anything other than the pulsing between her legs and the fact that she might literally die from torture like this.

He was evil. He was evil, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how affected she was. She leaned against the wall with her back still to him and was trying to steady herself when he spoke.

“Do you, ah…” She spun to face him, thinking she was ready, after all those deep breaths, to look him in the eye -

She was not.

His hair was a mess from where she’d been tugging at it, and even in the dim light she could tell that his eyes were dark and wanting. The worst, though -

The worst was his mouth, with one corner turned up into a crooked smile, like he _knew_. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was enjoying it, and _fuck_ she wished that didn’t send another wave of heat straight through her. 

“Do you need a boost?” 

What? She tried to snap out of the daze she still felt like she was in. She couldn’t think of anything but the ache she felt for his touch. He nodded towards the window.

Oh. So he thought -

Okay, this little -

She glared at him and cursed the fact that he looked so fucking good standing there with his smug grin, and that he’d already made her so wet she couldn’t think, because if she could, surely she would recognize that he was being a little shit and that she shouldn’t… reward this behaviour.

Of course she didn’t need a _boost_. She knew she wasn’t the tallest, alright, but she could get in this fucking window. She’d gotten out of it just fine, hadn’t she? It was only -

She turned and frowned at the window. It was only, like, eye-level. She was strong, she had great upper body strength, actually, thank you very much, and -

She stifled her shriek when his hands were back on her waist, this time in a much less gentle manner. He hoisted her up, and she resisted the urge to swing her legs back and kick him relentlessly for manhandling her in this way.

Except -

Okay, it’s not like she couldn’t have gotten in on her own, she totally _could_ have, but…

Well, she was already here. Already hoisted. Might as well, just. Clamber in from here. She might be independent, but she’s not an _idiot_.

She grabbed the sill and she’s sure, if she hadn’t consumed four (or was it five?) beers earlier in the night that she would have slipped in through the window in an exceedingly graceful manner.

As is, she flopped through and landed on her ass with a decidedly inelegant thump.

Grumbling, she rose to her feet before tipping into the wall - Seven Hells, no wonder she’d struggled with the window. She’d just lost her balance, slightly, for a little bit. She’d be fine. 

Gendry pulled himself up and over the windowsill easily - she desperately tried to ignore what this type of maneuver did to his arms. 

Show-off.

She was still leaning against his bedroom wall (hoping she looked nonchalant and not as if, without it, she might fall over) when he approached her, bracketing his arms on either side of her. Gods, he was _everywhere_ like this. Her heart pounded, and she tried to breathe as he leaned in closer. His eyes bore into hers, black as night in the moonlit room.

“You gonna be quiet this time?”

The rough tone of his voice caused another rush of arousal to crash over her. Considering how much of a mess she already was, she felt like the response was most likely a hard _no_ , but she certainly wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I guess we’ll see,” she breathed out, hoping to all the Gods that she sounded a lot more carefree and confident than she currently felt. 

His lips crashed into hers, all his previous calm and patience seeming to have evaporated with her challenge. He wasted no time unbuttoning her shorts, and with a slight wiggle of her hips they dropped to the floor. She kicked them out of the way haphazardly, wondering when, if ever, she’d find a spare moment to unlace her boots. She definitely didn’t have time for something as mundane as that right now, as Gendry was squeezing her ass appreciatively and kissing along her jaw while she desperately tried to catch her breath. He slid her soaked knickers down next, and she kicked those somewhere else. No wonder she’d lost some personal items last time. She certainly wasn’t taking much care as to where anything ended up. She should -

All thoughts of her articles of clothing flew from her mind and she dropped her head back against the wall with a gasp when his roughened fingers finally, _finally_ touched her. He slid them along her slit and she shuddered, eyes clenched shut. Despite what she’d said, just a few minutes earlier, she really _did_ want to be quiet - but _fuck_ , she was so wound up already, and there was a fire in her lower belly and her heart was racing and she was on the tips of her toes trying to get _closer_ -

His fingers were still teasing her, running across her entrance, and over her clit, and back down, and she just really, really couldn’t handle this -

He slipped two fingers inside her, and crooked them gently with his palm pressing into her clit -

Her back arched and she hit her head against the wall again but she didn’t fucking care as she felt pleasure shoot through to the tips of her fingers and toes as she clenched around his fingers. White flashed behind her eyelids and her heart hammered and she’s pretty sure she let out a strangled cry despite all of her best intentions.

Well, fuck.

Gendry’s fingers went still inside her, and she could feel herself twitching around him, involuntarily. With a shaky breath, she opened her eyes -

Gendry was staring at her, his lips parted slightly and his brows drawn up in astonishment. He looked like he might say something -

“Shut up,” she panted. Because okay _yes_ , that might have been a bit quick, but she’d already been on _edge_ \- it wasn’t _her_ fault. Gendry seemed to come to the same conclusion she did, as his look of surprise shifted into… something a little more self-satisfied.

“You did say I should make it worth your while,” he whispered, starting to slowly resume working at her with his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered and she tried not to sigh - he was already pleased enough with himself as it was. He withdrew his hand almost immediately, though, mercifully giving her a moment to pull herself together. She was likely to fall down if things kept on the way they’d been going.

“Seriously,” she tentatively released her hold on the back of his neck, hoping her shaky legs wouldn’t fail her as she trailed her hands down his torso, and further, until she was cupping him through his jeans. “Shut up.” 

Because sure, he was all smug now, when he’d been torturing her since before they even got _in_ here. She was determined to change that. She felt a flutter of satisfaction when her hands on him prompted him to mutter out a curse before he was frantically pulling at her shirt, forcing her to let go of him so he could get it up and off of her. She realized, blankly, that she was stood in front of him in nothing but her bra and her damned boots, while he was still fully dressed. In what world was that at all fair? No wonder she wasn’t winning, here.

She set out to remedy that immediately, tugging his tee up as far as she could, before he pulled it over his head. The dim lighting did nothing to hide the definition of his chest, the ridges of his abs, the muscles of his shoulders -

 _Fuck_ , it just wasn’t fair that he looked like this.

She raked her fingernails up over his pecs, trying to ignore the way his little hum of pleasure caused her clit to throb all over again.

Gods, she _still_ wasn’t patient. She needed him, inside her, and she didn’t have time for any more teasing. She fumbled with the button of his jeans ( _why_ could she never do things quickly when she was in a hurry?) and finally was pushing them down his hips. She grabbed the top of his briefs and tore them down too - he looked like he might finish the job, and take everything the rest of the way off, but as soon as his cock was free she took him in her hand and he went still. She slid her hand up, slowly, as he cupped her face and his eyes fluttered shut, and just before he leaned in closer the thought flitted through her mind, unbidden, of how beautiful he looked like this. And then he was kissing her again, as she toyed with his hot, smooth skin, trying to keep the grin off her face as he groaned into her mouth. Let _him_ be the one trying to keep it together, for once. It was only fair. 

He broke their kiss, and tugged her gently backwards, towards the bed -

Before stumbling slightly and uttering a curse, struggling against his jeans that were still halfway up his thighs. He looked down in confusion, and she fought down the urge to laugh.

“Forgot about these,” he mumbled with a slight frown before hurriedly kicking off his shoes and properly removing his offensive articles of clothing. Arya rushed to divest herself of her boots and bra, and when she was done, and their eyes met for the briefest of moments, both bare as the day they were born, the thought flashed through her mind that they were playing a dangerous game, and maybe they should stop -

But then he was kissing her, again, and his hands were back on her, picking her up like she weighed nothing, and carrying her over to the bed, and she forgot any and all notions of things like _stopping_.

He tossed her down, and she had just a second to try to catch her breath before he was on top of her, the urgency of his mouth on hers unmistakable. There was something so intoxicating, in the best possible way, about how she could _feel_ his need for her in everything he did. She could feel it in the way his hands were unable to stay still, seemingly wanting to touch her everywhere at once. She could feel it in the way his kisses were almost frenzied, and sometimes his teeth would sink into her (and she could _definitely_ feel it in the way he was pressed against her, hot and hard and silky-smooth). The feel of his cock against her made her _ache_ , and she was pretty sure she was whimpering at the sensation, but if she was it was lost in between them. And when he pulled away, just for a moment, fumbling around in his bedside dresser drawer for a condom, she missed the heat of him embarrassingly quickly. 

But then he was back, and it was like he hadn’t ever left, and he was rubbing his cock against her wet slit, and -

He was watching her. And she couldn’t look away, because whatever she saw in his eyes sent sparks of heat through her, even as he was still, _still_ teasing her, and she really needed him to just fuck her already -

She may have said that out loud. Oops. But it maybe wasn’t a bad thing at all, actually, as it made him finally sink into her, and then she couldn’t look into his eyes anymore because her own were clenched shut and her nails were digging into his back and she was _trying_ to stop herself from crying out. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, and her clit throbbed as his pace increased, and his lips were on the shell of her ear telling her how _perfect_ she felt, that she was so tight and hot and wet, and other things she couldn’t even hear over the pounding of her own heart.

He was propped up on an elbow, and she noticed, through her haze, that his other hand was as restless as ever. He was gripping her thigh, and then cupping her face, and then squeezing her ass, and she never knew where he was going to be but she didn’t _care_ because everywhere he touched her sent shocks right to her core.

And when he pinched her nipple, she didn’t expect it, and when he slammed into her her walls fluttered around him, and he captured her mouth once more, swallowing her moans as she fell off the edge for the second time that night.

He followed her almost immediately, his hand back on her ass pulling her into him as his rhythm stuttered and he broke their kiss, resting his forehead against hers with his lips slightly parted and his breathing ragged. She thought, as his cock twitched, sending yet another round of sparks though her, that he looked beautiful like _that,_ too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a huge enormous thank you to everyone who is reading this story, especially if you take the time to leave kudos or a comment!  
> I am so happy and honoured by the response to this story and hope it continues to bring people joy!  
> THANK YOU! xoxox


	5. Chapter 5

With her heartbeat finally calming, Arya reluctantly dragged herself out of Gendry’s bed. She grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it on before cracking his door open and peering out. Okay, she had to take a calculated risk here, because on the one hand, she _really_ had to pee. _But._ It absolutely would not do to run into Jon in her current state. Not only was she bare but for Gendry’s shirt, but she also had the sneaking suspicion that her hair was an absolute disaster, she likely had marks all over her neck, and she must look… well. Freshly fucked, as they say. And she liked to consider herself to be a pretty quick thinker, but trying to come up with a reasonable and believable explanation for this was not going well.

Best to just not get caught.

The coast appeared to be clear, so she hurriedly tiptoed across the hall and breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the bathroom door. Halfway there. Her heart rate had increased again, despite finally having calmed down. These illicit drunken nights she was having might actually turn out to be a bit of a cardiac health hazard.

Luckily, she snuck back to Gendry’s room with no incident. She thanked the Gods that she’d always been light on her feet. The moonlight was still streaming in through the window, and with the glow it provided she could clearly see Gendry, face down and spread eagle and apparently already asleep. She snorted. 

The thought flashed through her mind that she should maybe leave - then he wouldn’t have a chance to find her here in the morning and undoubtedly lose his shit again. As she stifled an enormous yawn, though, this idea was firmly shut down. It was late, she was fucking tired, and his bed looked _entirely_ too comfortable. Her mind was made up.

Before she crawled in beside him she figured she’d better do _one_ responsible thing this evening. To, you know. Balance things out, a bit. She picked up her shorts and fished around in the pocket for her phone, ready to text Meera that yes, she was alive, no, she did not need to call Jon, and _hard_ no, they did not need to talk about where she actually was. 

Her heart stuttered a bit when she realized that everyone was already so many steps ahead of her. Arya huddled over her phone, chewing on her lip and frantically trying to find a way to talk herself out of both of these conversations that she did not particularly feel like having. Especially not right now, when she was drunk and sleepy and not necessarily firing on all cylinders.

 **Meera:** Okay, it’s 1 am and you’re not here. PLEASE tell me you’re with Gendry having an indescribable time hahahahaha

 **Arya:** shut up

That should do it. Nice and concise. Let Meera know that she didn’t need to worry, and, more importantly, that she was not really wanting to have a talk about this. If she sort of pretended it wasn’t happening, then she didn’t have to think about it too hard. Right?

 **Sansa:** What’s going on with you and Gendry?

 **Sansa:** Arya.

 **Sansa:** You can’t avoid me forever.

 **Arya:** nothing

She grimaced as she sent the text to Sansa. Her eyes flickered over to Gendry again, and to his bare (and, honestly, very nice) backside as he lay in the bed he had just thoroughly fucked her in. ‘Nothing’ seemed like a pretty outright lie given the evidence in front of her, but…

Well. The key to a good lie is to keep it simple. She’s pretty sure. Someone told her that. Or it might have been on a crime show, or something. Regardless. If she didn’t give Sansa much information, she wouldn’t be able to…

Figure out what actually _was_ going on with her and Gendry. Because it was nobody’s business. The less people who knew, the better, because it would just complicate things, and it wasn’t a big deal anyway. She was a little bit drunk, too, so really, it basically didn’t even count. Reassured by this fortifying thought, she crawled into the bed beside him and passed out in record time.

(And if she woke up, some time later, with his head between her legs, as he told her, in between her quivering gasps, how good she looked in his shirt, before he had her again -

Well, her head was spinning, so that meant she was probably still tipsy, right? But just in case - best to not mention it. Because if they didn’t talk about it, then it _definitely_ didn’t count.)

***

Gendry woke with Arya Stark sprawled across his chest, one of her arms draped around his waist and one of her legs thrown across his (extremely bare) lower half.

Fuck.

He squinted down at her, and ran a hand over his face (as if that would fucking help anything). Okay, shit. He couldn’t help but feel that, despite swearing to himself that he would learn from his mistake, he had instead repeated it at the very first opportunity to present itself, and -

And, well, that just wasn’t great for his credibility. 

He carefully removed his other hand from where it had been comfortably resting on the smooth skin of her back. Gods, he wished she were dressed. At least somewhat. Or he were dressed. Somewhat. Anything to minimize the feel of her breasts against him, and the silky skin of her thigh where it rested -

Fuck, did he always have to wake up hard? 

Other than removing his hand, he felt entirely unsure of what to do next. He couldn’t very well get out of this situation without rousing her. 

Should he just pretend to be asleep until she… got up and left, or something? He didn’t know how he was supposed to face her, or act around her, now. Had he not _just_ told her that this wouldn’t happen again? She’d never believe a word out of his mouth ever again, and he couldn’t blame her. 

Although -

His brow furrowed. It’s not like he was _solely_ responsible for this. He seemed to remember her saying something about driving him mad on _purpose_ , and she actually might have kissed _him_ , and she’d come back here with him knowing _full_ well what it meant -

“Stop thinking so much,” she murmured sleepily. Gendry looked down at her in surprise, trying to ignore the way his heart stuttered in his chest as their eyes met. She looked so precious laying on his chest, waking up beside him, with her hair all mussed about and her eyes not all the way focused. He took a deep breath.

“Hi. Listen -” 

“Don’t.”

His mouth snapped shut, surprised again. She raised her head off of him, and was looking around the room, before she continued on distractedly.

“You’re gonna say something stupid, I can tell from the look on your face. Just don’t.”

Well. He wasn’t sure about that. It kind of seemed like something that needed to be said, whether she wanted to hear it or not, because they couldn’t keep doing this, it was _wrong -_

She had to know that.

“It’s just...” He wet his lips, and she arched an eyebrow at him. He tried again.

“We shouldn’t -”

“Well, we did. Did the world end?”

Did she have to keep interrupting him? How was he supposed to get his point across this way? He frowned at her as she pulled his shirt over her head before springing out of the bed. His shirt was ready to swallow her whole, and seeing her in it caused a lurch in his gut and his mouth went dry and -

Had she asked him something?

He shook his head slightly to himself, trying to clear his thoughts. Arya had pulled her shorts back on - his shirt was longer than those damn things. She laced up her boots, and before he could process what was happening she was hopping onto his windowsill. 

“Great. See you around,” Arya flashed him a grin that he knew meant nothing but trouble, and then she was gone, leaving him confused, hard, and utterly overwhelmed.

What else was new?

***

Arya felt miles lighter walking home than she had the week prior. She knew Gendry was going to be stupid again, he’d already proved that this morning, but more importantly -

She knew that he had wanted last night to happen, just as much as she did. She was shocked by just how much less anxious she was now that she _knew_ that to be true. 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see -

Oh. Texts from Sansa. Right. Fuck. Because Sansa’d _noticed_ , last night, of course she had, her and Gendry (okay, mostly Gendry, let’s be real) had been acting completely off, and she’d thought drunkenly texting Sansa that it was ‘nothing’ was going to make it all go away -

 **Sansa:** Okay, well, that’s clearly a blatant lie

Damn. Yes, it was a blatant lie. Not one of her better ruses at all. 

**Sansa:** Did you guys have a fight? Does Jon know?

Instantly, her mood improved. She could kiss Sansa for practically putting the answer right in her lap. A fight? Yes, sure, let’s call it that.

 **Arya:** yes, as a matter of fact, we did have a fight

 **Arya:** he can be a bit of a dick

 **Arya:** Jon doesn’t know

 **Arya:** I don’t wanna make things awkward so let's just never talk about this again ever, thanks!

Problem solved. She still had to deal with Meera, probably, but whatever. Meera already _knew_ about Gendry. She apparently knew more about Gendry than even Arya (or Gendry himself) did, having been the only one of the three of them to seem to understand what he actually wanted.

(And when Arya wandered into their room, wearing his shirt and smiling widely, she’d accepted all of Meera’s gleeful teasing, trying to ignore the heat that rushed to her cheeks. Because, for all of Meera’s excitement, it wasn’t a big _deal_. Right?)

***

Gendry discovered all too quickly that Arya had left both her bra and her own shirt behind. He groaned. He’d have to put those somewhere for safekeeping, too, just like her knickers from the time before that. Was he doomed to continue to collect evidence of his discretions, so he couldn’t ever just forget about it and move on?

No.

No, of course not. He almost scoffed when he realized what he had actually just thought. Of course he wasn’t going to _continue_ to collect items of Arya’s like this, because, no matter what she said, it wasn’t going to happen again.

***

It did, though.

(He’d love to say that it wasn’t his fault, but really -)

He’d seen her around all week. That wasn’t new. Her and Jon were close, she got claustrophobic in her dorm, she’d pop over all the time -

Just like she always had.

But now -

Now, he was pretty sure, she was purposefully trying to torture him. She wouldn’t stop smiling at him, with her eyes sparkling, and sometimes she’d brush past him and he’d smell her shampoo and remember how it felt to tangle his fingers in her hair, and sometimes she’d cock an eyebrow in his direction without saying _anything_ but it still caused this need inside of him to just grab her and -

And Jon was always there, none the wiser.

Not realizing for a second that Gendry was hopelessly lusting after his little sister as she did nothing but perfectly normal, perfectly appropriate things, that somehow still left him achingly hard and with nothing to do at the end of the day but remember the feel of her as he took his cock in his hand.

So when they ended up sat beside each other at the pub, and it was getting late, and she lightly rested her hand on his thigh under the table -

He glanced over at her, and the look in her eyes sent his last pathetic sliver of resolve out the window. 

He’d like to think it would take more than a hand on his leg to break him. 

It didn’t.

(But a short time later, when she was back in his room, riding his cock like it was what she was made for, while he sucked and played with her perfect tits and she trembled around him -

He couldn’t remember what he’d been so concerned about, before.)

***

He vowed to do better, from then on, but it seemed that somehow he only got worse. Because the week after that, she didn’t even need to touch him at all.

All she’d done was eye him, with her lips on her beer bottle, and he watched as she slowly swallowed -

He’s not sure how everyone at their table didn’t see through him right then and there, as he’s pretty sure his jaw was slack and his ears were red (and his cock was definitely at full attention, as all he could think about was her mouth on him, and wonder if she’d look up at him the same way as she sucked him off) -

(She did.)

***

The week after that, he had to admit that she really didn’t do anything.

Gendry liked to think, on the whole, that he was a decent guy. That he did the right thing, the moral thing, and people could trust him.

And while he had no doubts that what he was doing with Arya was not exactly a shining example of being a perfect gentleman -

He cared less and less about that with every night they spent together. Every time she fell apart in his arms, and he heard the little sounds that would escape her despite all her best efforts to keep quiet, and he felt the way she would pulse around him -

Nothing compared to that. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever thought the idea of how he was expected to act as a roommate was _ever_ going to mean more to him than that.

So, maybe he wasn’t such a great guy after all.

(Later that night when she was gasping his name as he fucked her with his fingers and sucked on her clit until she was shaking around him - 

He had to admit that he really, _really_ didn’t care.)

***

Arya truly felt, all things considered, that her and Gendry were doing a phenomenal job of acting ‘back to normal’. At least, they were no longer avoiding each other’s gaze, and ensuring they sat as far from each other as possible at all times. Sometimes they’d even sit together, and they’d smile and make each other laugh and nobody seemed any bit the wiser.

She should have known that this fragile peace couldn’t last forever.

Their first mistake happened one pub night when it was brought to their attention, in far too blunt a manner, that Jon may not know that _Arya_ was frequently coming over to spend the night with Gendry…

But.

Despite all the care they were trying to take, to keep quiet and sneak her in and out…

Jon definitely knew _somebody_ had been coming over. And when he asked Gendry, completely innocently, who he’d been seeing, and when they’d get to meet her -

Gendry’s eyes met hers, just briefly, and she widened her own as subtly as she could, silently urging him to look away. He couldn’t be shooting glances at her in moments like this, what the hells was he thinking?

Gendry had quickly averted his gaze, and promptly begun rubbing the back of his neck and stammering that it wasn’t anything serious, and he wouldn’t be bringing her round, so they would never meet her, ever. Arya let out a slow breath, hoping the flush on her chest and stiffness in her back wasn’t noticeable to anyone at the table. Jon and Theon seemed to accept his response without much question - and when there was no rebuttal from Sansa, either, Arya (mistakenly) thought that they were in the clear.

That is, until she felt her phone have a small explosion in her pocket, and pulled it out to see:

 **Sansa (9)**.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she opened the texts with dread.

 **Sansa:** Oh my Gods

 **Sansa:** I AM an idiot

 **Sansa:** There was no fight

 **Sansa:** You’re fucking

 **Sansa:** Aren’t you

 **Sansa:** Answer me

 **Sansa:** Nvm you don’t have to

 **Sansa:** You look so guilty 

**Sansa:** Omg this is amazing hahahaha

Arya’s eyes widened as she took in the slew of texts from Sansa, sitting across from her and innocently looking over at Jon, as if she hadn’t just dropped a literal bomb in Arya’s lap. Her stomach sank and her heart raced. Damn it all to the Seven Hells. Sansa was far too observant for _anyone’s_ own good. All it took was one misplaced _glance_ from Gendry and she fucking knew -

Arya took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down.

This was fine. It was. So, Sansa knew. Whatever. She wouldn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say, anyway. Her and Gendry were…

Well, she didn’t have a word for it. They didn’t talk about it. They just… ended up together, some nights, after the pub. Okay, most nights. Okay, every pub night since that time she’d kissed him, right here in this booth.

But it was still nobody’s business but their own. She shot Sansa a glare from across the table, and watched her try to stifle a laugh. Arya chose not to dignify any of those texts with a response. If Sansa thought she was so fucking wise, and informed, and already knew everything, then she didn’t need Arya to answer, anyway.

***

That wasn’t the end of it, though.

Of course it wasn’t the end of it. She should have expected it when Sansa cornered her in the bathroom, questioning her like she was on trial for a felony rather than having casual sex with a common acquaintance. 

“How did this even start?”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Are you going to tell Jon?”

“Why didn’t you tell _me_?”

“Who else knows?”

Arya had rolled her eyes and hissed the answers through her teeth as quickly as she could, hoping to escape as soon as possible. And she thought she did a pretty fine job of demonstrating exactly how _not_ a big deal it was, until -

“How is he?”

Fuck, she still couldn’t answer this. There was a reason Meera kept teasing her about ‘indescribable’. Her face flamed up once more, and she just shrugged, refusing to meet Sansa’s eyes. 

“Oh my Gods.”

Okay, _that_ sure didn’t sound good. Arya glared at the wall.

“You _like_ him.”

At this, Arya scoffed, and met Sansa’s eyes with defiance. 

“I don’t. I mean, I do. We’re friends. It’s not like… it’s not a thing.”

Sansa just let out a tinkling laugh, clapping her hands together.

“It _is_!”

And then she flounced out of the bathroom, laughing all the while, giving Arya no chance to defend herself, because _no_ \- it wasn’t like that.

Really.

***

Arya could pinpoint the exact moment, throughout her whole ‘thing’ with Gendry, when everything changed (Well - it had probably changed a whole lot earlier, but - when she couldn’t deny it anymore, and had to begrudgingly admit that maybe it _was_ ‘like that’, a little bit, after all). 

She had been proud of herself and Gendry, for settling into what was, on the whole, a calm routine. She still came around almost every day, and her and Gendry would chat, and laugh at Jon, and it would be like nothing had ever happened.

And then on pub nights, he’d pretend (less and less convincingly every time) like he wasn’t going to bring her home (he always did) and they would lose themselves in each other, in an all-consuming kind of way that Arya had never experienced with anyone else. But it wasn’t a big deal. It was just a thing that happened, sometimes, on pub nights, when they were a little tipsy, and it didn’t have to _mean_ anything. 

Everything changed on a random Tuesday night, and Arya was not prepared. Nobody expects big things to change on a random Tuesday night. 

She was at Jon’s, and they had thrown on a movie. And then the sequel, because why not, and Gendry stayed up to watch with them, and then -

Jon said he was going to bed.

And Gendry, staring innocently at the tv, said he’d watch to the end with her. And told Jon not to worry, that he’d drive her home, and Arya tried to keep her face smooth, as her belly fluttered and -

Why was she so warm, all of a sudden?

She barely watched the rest of the movie, suddenly all too aware of how close Gendry was, and how dim the room was, and how fast her heart was going. Because she hadn’t been _ready_ for something like this, not tonight, it wasn’t part of the routine (not that she was about to complain - she could already feel the arousal building in her lower belly in mere anticipation, and she waited for him to _do_ something) -

And then the movie ended, and he stood up, and -

“You ready?”

What? He was jangling his keys, and she was still sitting there, like an idiot, as a distinctly different type of heat prickled over her and she felt her face flame up. He was going to drive her home, of course he was, and here she’d thought that -

She was so stupid. She knew it was just a thing they did when they were drinking, when their guards were lowered, when he wasn’t thinking so much -

She quickly gathered her things and made her way to the door, determinedly avoiding his eyes. Her heart was still going uncomfortably fast, and she was embarrassed enough as it was. She didn’t want him to _see_ , didn’t want him to know that she had been on a completely different page, that she had just let herself get the absolute wrong idea about what it was they were doing.

She stomped along ahead of him, mentally berating herself all the while. She was chewing on her lip, and when they got to his truck she wondered if she shouldn’t just tell him not to bother. Her place wasn’t far, she didn’t need a driven _escort_ , and she really didn’t want to be around Gendry for one more second -

She pulled on the door handle anyway (what was wrong with her? She’d just decided she wasn’t going with him), but it was locked. She huffed in frustration. What was he waiting for? She tugged on it again, and he still didn’t unlock it -

Was this some kind of stupid game?

She normally liked games, honestly, but she wasn’t exactly a fan of this one. Exasperated, she gave up her quest to never look him in the eye again, and spun around -

He was closer than she expected, and he looked… nervous, maybe. He had a crease between his brows, and his eyes darted between hers, and then -

He leaned down, and his lips were on hers, soft and almost questioning. Her heart hammered, and her head spun, and -

Hadn’t she just come to terms with the fact that this was not his intention? Her mind couldn’t keep up with this. Still, almost against her will, her arms were around his neck, and she was pressing himself against him.

She responded quite eagerly, really, her body already right back to the anticipation that had been building ever since Jon left them alone. His hands were on her waist, stroking beneath the loose shirt she had on, sending shivers along her spine. Any hesitance that might have been present at the onset had disappeared, as they fell into a rhythm they were now all too familiar with. 

His mouth on hers was urgent, now, and his hands were venturing higher, and when he cupped her breast she felt a jerk in her lower belly before it registered, all too briefly, that they were out in the open, and sure, it was late, but it’s not like there weren’t streetlights, or whatever -

Gendry moved his lips to her jaw, and she thanked the Gods, because she needed to catch her breath, and she needed to remind him where they were, and what they were _supposed_ to be doing.

“Thought you were -”

She broke off as his thumb brushed her nipple over the thin bralette she had on, and her heart pounded in her throat. He did it again, and he was kissing her neck, and all she could feel was heat between her legs, and -

What was she saying?

Right. Yes. She finished her thought, her voice much shakier than she appreciated.

“Driving me home.”

This didn’t seem to phase him much, as he continued to suck on her neck, and now he was toying with _both_ her nipples, and she couldn’t think -

“Told Jon I would.” 

“Right.”

He really didn’t seem concerned that what he was currently doing was not at all in the realm of driving her home. Well, there was a vehicle, involved, somewhat, she supposed, but -

“Had to make it believable.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth he went right back to the assault on her neck. Her eyes had fluttered shut, and her head had tilted back, and every brush and pinch of his fingers made her want to scream.

“Of course.”

She had no idea how she managed to get those words out, or what she was even talking about, but she was proud of herself, nonetheless.

“You could stay.”

He’d pulled away from her neck, finally, to look into her eyes. His own were dark, and hungry, and his gaze filled her with more want than she knew what to do with. (Plus his hands were still on her fucking breasts and he certainly hadn’t stopped _that_ assault, so could she really be blamed for what happened next?)

Before she knew it she was nodding, and hoping she’d be able to walk, legs as shaky as they felt. He’d kissed her once more, before grabbing her by the hand.

Arya had never tried to be so quiet in her life, as they crept back into the apartment. Gendry made a loud show of dropping his keys onto the counter, and then scanned the hallway to make sure the coast was clear.

And when they made it to his room, and he tore her clothes off as hurried as ever, before laying her down and returning his attention to her breasts, with his mouth this time, relentlessly, until she wasn’t even sure of her own name anymore -

She felt just as drunk as any other time they’d done this.

(But then he’d flipped her over, and fucked her into the mattress, one hand on her clit and the other with his fingers entwined with hers -

She did a terrible job of keeping quiet, despite all her previous efforts, and she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything but Gendry, and his hands, and his cock, and how she felt so good she could cry as she came harder than she ever had in her damn life -)

And she couldn’t pretend things were the same, after that.

Nothing was the same.

Because it wasn’t just a drunken thing, anymore, and she couldn’t keep telling herself that it was. She couldn’t pretend that they didn’t really know what they were doing, that it didn’t count, that it wasn’t _anything_ , especially when -

It was even better, like this.

And that -

That put dangerous thoughts in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our babies are getting more reckless and (maybe) a little bit less oblivious? Maybe?  
> Thanks so much for reading, I hope this makes someone smile :)  
> Have a great day xox


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry

When Gendry woke the next morning, Arya was gone. He tried to quell the disappointment that rose within him against his will - because what did he expect her to do? Just hang out and have breakfast with him like she wasn’t completely _not_ supposed to be with him at all? He sighed to himself, and ran a hand through his hair. He had to get a grip on his whole fucking life. The longer this went on, the less excuses he had at his disposal for why it was okay, or not his fault, or not a big deal -

How was he supposed to justify last night? He certainly hadn’t had anything to drink. _He_ kissed her outside against the car. _He_ asked her to stay. _He_ …

Well, _he_ was in way over his head. There was a little voice that he was trying to ignore that was telling him that Jon was _bound_ to find out, and it was better if he heard it from him, or Arya, or the two of them, together, than some other way. Telling him would be the right thing to do - right?

But then why did the thought of it make him want to go into some kind of Witness Protection program? He sighed again. Everything was already a mess as it was. He apparently couldn’t keep away from Arya, sober or not, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her, from the moment he woke (like right now - how bloody astute) until the moment he fell asleep. (And even then, she haunted his dreams, nowhere close to as heady and intoxicating as the real thing, but still - enough to drive him mad.)

He didn’t _want_ to keep away from her. That was the root of the problem. And there was a small part of him that thought maybe, if Jon knew -

Everything would change. Everything would stop, maybe, and -

He couldn’t risk that. He wouldn’t. Because what if Jon insisted she not see him anymore? (He could picture Arya, all feisty and furious at being told what to do and who to see - but still. She loved Jon more than anything. If he truly asked this of her, would she resist? She might. But she might not, and he just couldn’t risk it.) Or what if it wasn’t exciting anymore, for her, without all of the sneaking around? This thought twisted in his gut, and he knew it was stupid, because if that was really all it was to her then it was bound to end eventually anyway, so he might as well just accept it -

He couldn’t, though. Because sneaking around was fun, sure it was, but being with Arya was so much _more_ than that. For him, anyway. Maybe it was always bound to be, and he was an idiot for ever trying to pretend that it wasn’t.

And he knew it might not be the same for her. It wasn’t at all, probably. And so again, it was blatantly clear, he should stop -

For his own sake, really, because the longer it went on the more it would tear him up when it inevitably came to its conclusion.

(He wouldn’t, though. And he knew that the whole time. Because sure, maybe it meant more to him, and maybe he _wanted_ more than what he had - but he’d take whatever he could bloody well get.)

***

(If Gendry had known how soon it would be thrown in his face just how _not_ alright he actually was with the way things were -

Maybe he would have done a better job at reminding himself that she _didn’t_ feel the same, that she never promised him anything, that nothing was a sure thing, that they really should _stop_ -

It still might not have helped at all. But maybe he would have been a little more prepared.)

***

He couldn’t hide in his room tearing himself to pieces forever. He eventually ventured out into the kitchen, and determinedly tried not to show any changes of expression when he saw Jon already there, sipping a coffee. He didn’t love the look on his face, though, like Gendry was an intriguing zoo animal, and he was ready to be entertained -

“So. Last night. Same girl?”

Gendry felt his eyes widen and the back of his neck heat up. Fuck. 

No ‘good morning’, or anything? They were just going to get right into it?

He cursed himself internally. Sneaking Arya in quiet as could be didn’t necessarily help anything if she proceeded to -

He quickly cut off the memory of the sounds she made, and how he’d known they were probably making too much noise, but at the time he hadn’t _cared_ , not when hearing her cry out because of _him_ made him feel so fucking good -

His heart thudded uncomfortably, and he figured it would be best to just nod. He was less likely to give anything away if he didn’t use any words.

“And I’ll never meet her? Not even see her? She’s like a ghost.”

Jon was still eyeing him like he was some kind of fucking spectacle, and he tried to grin back as if this whole conversation didn’t make him want to run for the hills, never to be seen again. Gendry merely shrugged, continuing with his rock-solid plan of keeping his mouth firmly shut. 

“A noisy ghost.”

The heat had definitely spread from the back of his neck up to the tips of his ears, and Jon was clearly teasing him, and even more clearly wanted a little bit more detail - he was goading him, Gendry could feel it, but he couldn’t _speak_ , silence was his only line of defence -

“These walls are thin, aye?”

Fuck, he should just move out at this point. He tried to keep the panic down, and busied himself with getting a bowl of cereal. If he didn’t say anything, _still,_ Jon had to get the message eventually, right? And he would just drop it? Gendry cleared his throat, and shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, avoiding Jon’s gaze entirely, and praying, on an endless loop in his mind, for him to drop it, to give it up, to just move on -

And when he did, with an overly dramatic and laboured sigh, before leaving the room, Gendry finally let out the breath he had been holding. Gods, what a fucking mess. 

How was he ever supposed to look Jon in the eye and act normal when all of this was going on? He thought back to a couple of months ago, and how much simpler everything seemed -

(But it’s not like he would change anything, no matter how awkward he felt now. He didn’t know why he bothered even pretending that he might.)

***

Everything started to unravel, unbeknownst to Arya, that Friday night. It was Rickon’s fault, really. 

(It was probably her fault, and Gendry’s, for both refusing to properly communicate about anything that actually mattered, but -

It seemed easier to blame Rickon.)

She’d been finishing up the last bits of her dull as nails reading assignment, looking forward to heading to the pub and blowing off some steam and forgetting about her responsibilities for a few glorious hours, when she got the call. She’d rolled her eyes, and muttered a few choice expletives, but ultimately, she’d gone to help him.

(Because of course she had, he’s her brother, no matter how much of a shit he could be sometimes.)

***

 **Sansa:** Your bf is wondering where you are

 **Sansa:** He’s trying to act like he doesn’t care but he so obviously does

 **Sansa:** It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad

 **Arya:** I don’t have a boyfriend

 **Sansa:** LOL good one

 **Sansa:** Can you please just tell me where you are so I can report back nonchalantly and put him out of his misery

 **Sansa:** This is literally tragic to watch

 **Arya:** no

For what must have been the thirty-seventh time that night, Arya scowled at Rickon, hunched over on her bed. _This_ was not at all how she wanted to be spending her evening. She wanted to be at the pub, with Jon, and Sansa (and Gendry too, yes, fine). She wanted to be relaxing, having a drink or two and then, later in the night, going back to Gendry’s and having him unravel her in what somehow always seemed to be an unbelievably short amount of time.

Her stomach flipped as she thought of Sansa’s text. Surely she was over-exaggerating. Gendry didn’t care where she was. He was probably in a bad mood, that was true, but that happened all the time. Sansa was just stuck on this _idea_ , this romantic notion, that they were ‘a thing’, and that’s why she was saying all this stupid stuff.

Sansa was being ridiculous. If Gendry actually cared where she was, he would _ask_ her. Which he hadn’t, because he _wasn’t_ her boyfriend, and he wasn’t her keeper, and he didn’t care where she went or what she did, because they weren’t _anything_. 

And that was totally fine, and not contributing to her testy mood in the slightest.

Really.

***

By half-past nine, Gendry had finally given up on watching the door of the pub, waiting for Arya to appear. She clearly had other plans tonight.

Other plans that she refused to share with anyone. Well, that was fine. It was just -

They hadn’t ever talked about this thing between them. And he knew that, and he’d already tried to prepare himself mentally that it wasn’t the _same_ for her, but -

When the hour got later and later, without any word from her, it became blatantly clear to him how spectacularly he had failed at actually accepting that they didn’t have some sort of arrangement, that they didn’t actually have some sort of a ‘thing’ going -

It dawned on him (no matter what he’d tried to tell himself) just how sure he’d been that he would be spending the night with her tonight.

To have that be so off-base was… jarring. And his mood soured, more and more, the longer the evening dragged on, until he was forced to admit that there really was no chance he would see her tonight.

He wished none of this made his stomach churn the way it did. Because surely Arya had other things to do some nights. Other... people to see. Against his will, his brain began conjuring up images of where she could be. Not alone, certainly. And she wouldn’t tell anyone where she was, and why the fuck was that? 

And he didn’t want to think it (and he really, _really_ didn’t want to picture it) but the only logical thing he could think of was that she was... with someone. Someone else. And she didn’t want to deal with any hassle from her siblings, probably, so it was just easier for her to keep it to herself. Just like she did with him. The thought made him want to fling his beer across the room. 

It shouldn’t have affected him so much. He shouldn’t have let it, not at all, he thought he’d _known_ that he was taking what he could get and he thought it was enough -

But still, something inside of him was eating him alive, twisting his insides up until he felt sick, and angry, and _stupid_ -

Because what the fuck was he thinking now? That they had some sort of agreement, without anything ever being said? He cursed himself for ever letting these thoughts slip into his head, into his heart, thoughts that maybe it _meant_ something to her, that it wasn't just physical, and that she would just always be around, always choose to spend her nights with him -

He couldn’t stop the bitterness he felt - towards himself, primarily. Because what in all hells was he doing? Sitting here moping over the fact that Arya Stark had a life outside of him? 

Of course she did, and she was on to the next thing, without a thought or a word to him. He wished it didn’t feel like such a knife in his gut. (More, he wished she’d never smiled at him softly in the mornings, never shot him looks behind Jon’s back that made him have to stifle his laughter, never looked into his eyes when she fell over the edge, taking bigger and bigger pieces of him with her every time.) He wished for a lot of things, none of which changed anything about the way things actually were.

If he’d decided to take the fact that she’d come over a few times as a promise, of sorts, that they didn’t _need_ words to understand each other -

Well, he was a fucking idiot.

No surprise there.

***

Try as he might, Gendry couldn’t sleep at all. He’d left the pub shortly after ten, scowling and stomping home, lost in his own thoughts. 

He didn’t _want_ to think about it anymore. It felt like all he’d done for hours, go around and around in his head, wondering how he’d let himself fall into such a mess.

Because hadn’t he told himself, over and over, that it wasn’t any big thing? He must never have believed it, not truly. Because if he had, he wouldn’t feel like something was trying to claw its way out of him as he lay in the dark, picturing Arya -

Why couldn’t he stop picturing it?

He knew there was no way he could sleep if his heart rate didn’t slow, but it refused, and his mind wouldn’t slow either -

He couldn’t believe what an idiot he was. He’d always known he could be, but really, he’d excelled this time. 

What was he supposed to do now? Act like nothing had ever happened? Would Arya pretend nothing had ever happened?

(A few times, as he tossed and turned, traitorous thoughts crossed his mind that maybe he had it all wrong, because sometimes she’d looked at him so _soft_ , and how could she have done that if she was just going to wake up one day, bored with him and on to the next thing? He squashed those thoughts as soon as he could. Thinking bullshit like that was the _entire_ reason he was in this mess, because he didn’t let himself see things for how they really were - just how he wanted them to be. He knew what she was doing, right now, there was only one explanation, one thing she wouldn’t want to tell _anyone_ , not even him -

And he had to take it, accept it, and move on, not spend the night coming up with rationalizations that were a complete fantasy -)

Gods, no wonder he couldn’t fucking sleep.

***

The next morning, Arya woke from her uncomfortable space on the floor to find an aggravatingly cheery Rickon already up and making her bed. Ah, the joys of youth. Should he not be in more pain right now? He’d been in a bad way last night, and she’d hardly slept at all, waking up all night to check on him and make sure he was still alive -

“Morning, sis!” Ugh, he was so chipper.

Arya hadn’t been intoxicated at _all_ last night, and yet she was sure she felt worse this morning than he did.

She wanted to be seventeen again. What a time to be alive.

“Hey, thanks for coming to get me.”

She met his eyes, bright and lively and… grateful, and some (some, not all) of her irritation melted away. Of course she came to get him, and of course she wouldn’t tell anyone, and of course she would do it again in an instant, despite all her grumblings.

She wouldn’t ever tell him, but she worried about Rickon sometimes. He was wild, the wildest of all of them, and sometimes she felt that her parents were so exhausted with all the rest of them that they just didn’t have enough gas left in the tank to… handle him. (The mere fact that he was attending White Harbor’s School for Boys was evidence enough, to her, that these worries were not unfounded.)

So when he’d called her, drunk off his ass at merely 8 o’clock at night, alone and lost (she thanked the Gods that he had, at one point, acquiesced to turning on ‘Find my Friends’), she hadn’t hesitated to drive out to find him, and bring him back to her room. Meera, angel that she was, hadn’t said a word, merely raised her eyebrows when she’d struggled to drag his sorry, drooping ass into the room as he slurred and stumbled all over the place.

Arya had put Rickon up in her bed, on his side with a blanket and a bucket and some water, and worriedly kept an eye on him as long as she was able, before curling up herself on the floor beside him, barely sleeping a wink (because she couldn’t take him back to the _school_ like that, Gods only know what they would do to him).

And now here he was, without a care in the world, grinning at her with his eyes twinkling -

“Try not to do that again, eh?”

She wished he looked chastened by this, but he really didn’t. His grin only widened, while he assured her that of _course_ he wouldn’t, last night totally sucked, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly party, and did that sound like the type of thing he was doing on _purpose_?

She didn’t find this is as reassuring as she was certain he meant it to be. 

Regardless, he was still beaming, and suggesting they go out for breakfast, and -

Well, that sounded really fucking good actually. 

It was all a ruse to get her to drive him back, and she knew that, but she let it happen anyway. She tried to keep up her grumbling, but she’s pretty sure he saw right through her. 

It was nice to spend time with him, no matter the circumstances.

She didn’t get to see him enough.

***

Arya did drive him back to the school, once they were both fed and he had showered her with more praise and affection than she could stomach for one day. She’d tried to talk to him, again, 'seriously', and hoped she’d gotten through, at least a little -

(She’s pretty sure she didn’t, but at least he knew he could call her if he was in any sort of trouble. She tried to have that be enough.)

She took the day to study, and catch up on assignments, and absolutely _not_ think about Gendry and the fact that she hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t tried to talk to her and -

She had other things to worry about, anyway.

Also, she didn’t care, because it wasn’t a big thing.

***

Okay, it’s just that -

She always saw him on Fridays. And, lately, he always _had_ her on Fridays, and now that she had missed that chance, she was feeling…

Deprived, maybe. 

And Meera, bless her soul, had actually gone _out_ (Arya had come home to a note saying she was out with someone who she hoped would turn out to be her own indescribable man, and to wish her luck, and that she wouldn’t be home that night - with an over-exaggerated number of hearts and winking faces and one extremely explicit and poorly-done drawing).

Arya chewed on her lip, and contemplated her options. It shouldn’t be that complicated, really. There was something she wanted, and she knew what it was, and so she should just -

Tell him. 

Tell him that she’d missed him (not in a sappy way, or anything, _obviously_ ), and that he should come over (nevermind that this wasn’t part of their routine - that didn’t really matter, did it? Because everything had already changed, hadn’t it?)

She ignored the little voice in her head that told her she was being an idiot. That he hadn’t missed _her_ , clearly, he hadn’t spoken to her at all, and she would look desperate, and he might even laugh at her -

She firmly told that voice to _shut the fuck up_ , and grabbed her phone. She refused to be a coward. If she wanted something, she had better at least try. Grab the bull by the horns, or whatever. She took a deep breath, snapped a quick photo, typed out her thoughts, and hit send. And then promptly threw her phone face-down as if it had burned her. Gods, being bold could be a little bit terrifying. 

***

 **Arya:** I missed you last night

Gendry’s heart may have stopped when he saw the text come in. 

What? 

The storm inside that he’d spent all night and most of the day trying to get a hold on was immediately out of his control once again as he read the message in front of him.

What the fuck was she doing? Had whoever she’d been with _last night_ not satisfied her needs well enough? His heart pounded in his ears, and his jaw was clenched. 

And, he was right back where he’d started. He wished, more than anything, that he didn’t care - and that he had some idea of how he should respond. Part of him wanted to ignore it. Ignore her. He didn’t know what kind of games she was playing, and why she was trying to string him along like this, but he wasn’t interested in participating. He huffed to himself. He couldn’t keep doing this, last night was more than enough proof, he couldn’t just have her sometimes and have that be it, he couldn’t -

He wouldn’t respond. 

As soon as he had bloody decided that, though, his phone lit up again, and this time there was a photo, and -

Against his will, his heart raced and his blood rushed south as he realized he was seeing Arya’s very bare legs - why was she not dressed? The photo only contained her upper thighs down, but that much skin was enough to make him forget how to think. And there was another message -

She told him she was alone, in her dorm, for once -

He tried to recall the rage and indignation that had been swirling within him just a moment ago, and all the reasons why he shouldn’t see her anymore. It was all mixed up now, though, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was pounding from anger or want. He should ignore her. He’d just decided that. She was playing with him, and he didn’t appreciate it, and he knew what was best for him in the long run, and it was to get _out_ of this before it tore him apart -

He could say no. He wasn’t just some animal with no self-control -

 **Gendry:** coming

With his heart thundering, he shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and rushed out of the apartment. His thoughts raced around in his head, fighting against each other, as he drove the short distance to the dorms. He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that. He was too on edge, he wasn’t thinking clearly -

He wondered why he didn’t care, why he would keep thundering forward when he _knew_ this was a mistake. He slammed the door as he got out of the truck -

He realized he didn’t even know what building she was in, let alone what room. The wait for her response after he asked her seemed to last an hour, and he wished that he would have taken that time to think, to breathe, to calm down and just be rational -

Because what was he _doing_? He couldn’t stay still. He had too much adrenaline, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight, or he wanted to fuck, or -

He didn’t know. But he wanted to see her, and he had to do _something_ , before everything that was inside him burst out, destroying him in the process -

 **Arya:** Ash, 105

He rushed towards her place, his thoughts racing even faster. Should he confront her? Demand to know where she’d been last night? Tell her she couldn’t play with him like this, that he wouldn’t always just be available at her beck and call whenever she wanted something -

(Although, he couldn’t help but notice that the way he’d raced over here, with little to no effort on her part, strongly negated this notion). He tried to keep his breathing steady as he thundered along the path to her door.

He hadn’t settled, not in the slightest, when he knocked, and -

He knocked like an asshole, he could tell that, at least. Like she better open the fucking door right now or he would -

She pulled the door open, and then she was standing in front of him with a soft smile, looking happy to see him and wearing nothing but _his_ fucking shirt, and he just -

He wondered if she kept the guy from last night’s shirt too. His stomach turned, and a flash of hurt shot through him -

He didn’t have time to be hurt right now. He’d just barrel right over it, and bury it deep down where she couldn’t ever see it -

“That was quick,” she grinned (and, yes, normally he _loved_ to see her smile, but right now, her being amused was really the last thing he needed). She stepped to the side and he stormed into the room, resolutely looking anywhere but at her bed. He felt sick, a little bit, with the way his blood was pumping and his stomach was twisting, and he didn’t know what he was _doing_ but he had to get the poison out while he still had a chance -

“Yeah, well.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and gritted his teeth. How the fuck was he supposed to start? Now that he was here, it was more clear than ever that he didn’t know what he was doing -

“What’s wrong?” He exhaled roughly through his nose. She didn’t have a _clue_ , and it was just another example of how poorly he had misunderstood things. And he didn’t want her to know. Having her realize just how tightly he was wound around her finger when she couldn’t care less made him want to put his fist through the wall -

“You know, I’m not just sitting around, waiting for you to need me for something, ready to drop everything -”

Because he _wasn’t_ , no matter that that was exactly what he had done. It was just this one time, and it wouldn't happen again -

“ _What_?”

“I just think it’s a little bit fucked, is all -”

“If you thought it was so fucked then why did you even _come_?”

He ignored the way her voice had risen, the tone of it almost shrill, and how rattled she sounded (because it wouldn’t do him any good to think it was because she cared about any of this, letting himself think that was the whole reason he was upset in the first place) -

“It’s really not my problem if whoever you wanted to see _yesterday_ didn’t get the job done -”

“Oh my Gods, would you _please_ get over yourself -”

And maybe he should have stopped then, because she wasn’t rattled anymore, now she sounded just as enraged as he did (but he’d gone too far, now, to stop - hadn’t he?).

“Why? Why should that not _piss_ me off -”

“I don’t owe you _anything_ , that’s why!”

And, there it was. Was that not the whole problem, in itself? She _didn’t_ owe him anything, she’d made him no promises, she wasn’t _his_ in any stretch of the imagination, no matter how right he’d thought all of it felt -

None of that mattered. It was a game to her, a fun thing to do, and he couldn’t get that through his thick fucking skull without it being thrown in his face like this. 

Because the worst part of this whole thing was that she was right. And he’d known that the entire time, known that he had no right to the rage that had been swirling inside him ever since she didn’t show up last night. He had no right to anything with her, and he never would. He never should have come here. It was a bad idea from the start, and he should have known _better_ -

Because what did he really think this was going to accomplish? He wished he’d stopped to think, that he hadn’t let his fury dictate his actions, and his words, and made himself look not only an idiot, but a complete _dick_ as well -

It’d been a while since he’d done something like this, and, fool that he was, he’d thought maybe he’d grown up, that he had better control of his emotions, that he wouldn’t give in to anger so readily (he hadn’t even given in to it, really - he’d grabbed it, head on, willingly, and used it as fuel for this entire _stupid_ confrontation). 

Was he really going to blame her for not wanting anything more with him? He was a fucking _idiot_ , he knew that, and an angry, resentful idiot at that.

He was stupid to have been at all surprised by any of this, by how it turned out, by how she wouldn’t even look at him now -

“Yeah. Yeah, guess not.” He could hardly force the words out through his clenched teeth, but somehow he managed, and then, with his heart in his throat and his stomach like lead, he stormed right back out, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS things got out of hand real quick!  
> I'm always scared to post angsty things so please don't come at me, I can't handle it LOL #knowyourweaknesses  
> As always, I appreciate everyone who is reading and comments help me write faster ;)  
> Thank you for reading and have a lovely day xoxoxo


	7. Chapter 7

Staring at her dorm room door, Arya let out a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her hands were shaking, and -

Was something crushing her chest or was she just feeling too much at one time?

What the fuck had just happened?

Her stomach churned, and she paced her room aimlessly, no idea what she was supposed to do with herself now or how she was supposed to make sense of what had just gone on.

Was he -

So, was it just... done, then?

The twisting in her stomach worsened, and she swore under her breath as a lump formed in her throat. She wouldn’t cry about this. She wouldn’t.

But how had this happened?!

She’d been almost giddy a short time ago, that he _did_ want to see her, that he was coming over, and instead -

The image of him was burned into her brain, eyes flashing as he seemed to tower over her, anger radiating off of him -

It was like an electric current, maybe, because it didn’t stay locked within him, it spread to her too, until she was spitting things right back at him, full of righteous indignation, and -

_You could have just told him._

She cursed again, and she was still pacing, because she hadn’t started it, any of it, he’d come in here like a bull in a china shop, intent on destruction, and she -

She may not have started it, but she very well could have ended it. Because she knew what he was saying, she knew why he was acting the way he was, and she could have just _told_ him. Told him that she wasn’t with someone else, no one else had even remotely crossed her mind since they started this whole thing.

She took another shaky breath. What the fuck was she thinking? Was this not what she wanted, deep down, all along? For him to care about her, for this to mean something to him? If you’d told her, yesterday, that the thought of her with someone else would make Gendry lose his fucking mind -

She would have laughed, and scoffed, and not dared to let herself think that he would be all that bothered, because -

They weren’t anything. That’s what she kept saying, and that’s what she wouldn’t let herself forget, no matter what she knew she felt for him, because if she didn’t let herself expect anything then she wouldn’t get let down.

(Had Sansa not tried to tell her exactly that, last night? That he _was_ bothered, and he wanted to know where she was? And she’d brushed it off, and ignored her, thinking she was making it all up, that _Sansa_ was the deluded one -)

But.

He did care. He had made that more than clear, tonight, and what had she done? Thrown it back in his face? For what? Some warped sense of independence? (Because maybe she wasn’t wrong in saying she didn’t owe him anything, but that didn’t mean she didn’t _want_ to, and if he wanted that too, then what the fuck were they doing?)

She placed her hands on her hips and stared determinedly at the ceiling, willing the prick behind her eyes to fucking _stop_. Because she couldn’t stop picturing him, only now it was right before he left, when his shoulders had slumped and his eyes had dulled and she’d forced herself to stare at the floor because she couldn’t see him like that, she couldn’t stand it -

 _She_ made him look like that. She’d hurt him, she knew she had, and -

She thought she might be sick.

She tore at her hair, and her heart was still racing, and -

 _Fuck this_.

She wasn’t going to just sit around (or, well, stomp around) her room all night, wishing things were different. She’d just decided she would go after what she wanted, had she not? And what she _wanted_ was certainly not to leave things like this. She couldn’t. 

She grabbed a pair of soft cotton shorts off the floor and pulled them on, before shoving her feet into her slides. He might have thought the conversation was over, but guess what, she fucking _didn’t_ , and she wasn’t going to just let them both be miserable -

She tore the door open, and her feet (and brain, and heart) came to an abrupt stop as she was met with Gendry, hands in his pockets, eyes wide and startled as if he wasn’t the one standing in front of _her_ door. 

He blinked a couple times, and her heart must have started again because she could hear it pounding in her ears, and the lump in her throat seemed bigger than ever -

(Because he was _here_ , he’d never left, and he was so handsome it was devastating, and the look in his eyes made her feel like she was about to shatter into a million pieces and she couldn’t even tell you _why_ -)

“Hey,” his voice was hoarse, like she was sure hers would be if she could force her mouth to cooperate and make any type of sound. 

***

Slamming the door hadn’t been nearly as cathartic as Gendry might have hoped. If anything, it had made him feel even shittier. Like a bratty child having a temper tantrum when things didn’t go his way. Still breathing heavily, he leaned back against the wall, trying to get a handle on himself.

It wasn’t going particularly well, because as the moments ticked by it only became more clear how spectacularly he had just imploded, had taken something important to him and dashed it to pieces within minutes -

Because yes, Arya might not want to be with him. She might have found someone else. She might have just seen him as a fun way to pass the time, on nights when she was bored -

But.

As bitter as those thoughts were... none of them were close to as unbearable as the thought of her hating him, like she must now. Regret coursed through him, stronger and stronger, until he could barely stand it.

He had to fix this. As best he could. He knew he couldn’t make things go back to the way they were, but he had to do _something_. The thought of her walking around, hanging out in his apartment with Jon, coming out to the pub, and _hating_ him -

He couldn’t live with that.

He ran a hand through his hair, and found himself staring blankly at her door. He breathed deeply a few more times. He just had to sort out what he would say, first, so he didn’t make things worse, and then -

He didn’t really get the chance, because all of a sudden the door in front of him burst open, and he was face to face with Arya, her eyes wild and her hair a mess, still wearing his _fucking_ shirt, and all he wanted was -

His heart clenched, and he cut that thought short. He had one job, and that was to apologize, not spiral back into how much he _wanted_ her, because that didn’t _matter_ -

“Hey.”

***

Arya felt panicky as she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. She was jittery all over, thinking of how similar this was to earlier in the night, and she just -

She prayed it went better this time. She still didn’t know what to say, or what to do, and she hated that she felt this tense around him. Things had always been so easy, before. She tried to recall all the fire and motivation she’d had just a moment ago when she was headed to find him, determined to straighten everything out. 

Somehow, having him in front of her had dashed all of her plans. She didn’t know what to do with herself, or where to look, or what she should do with her arms -

(They were hanging limply by her sides, and she felt like some kind of awkward mannequin, and she just fucking hoped that he had some kind of plan here, because she sure as all hells did not.)

Gendry ran a hand through his hair, before meeting her eyes. He just stared at her, and she stared back, and she tried to let him know with nothing more than the force of her gaze how much she wished things had gone differently. (She was pretty sure he wasn’t getting it.)

She hoped that he would say something, anything, because she couldn’t take the silence, but she didn’t know what to say -

“You were right, before.”

Every word seemed to cause him difficulty, forced out between his teeth as his jaw worked and his brow creased.

Arya just blinked at him, so relieved that he’d spoken that it took her a moment to actually process what he was saying. _Was_ she right? About anything? She certainly didn’t _feel_ right. She felt like shit.

“You don’t owe me anything, and I had no right to come at you like -”

He broke off, and Arya felt as if her stomach had plummeted to the floor. A hot prickle ran up the back of her neck, and she wished she could go back, just a few minutes, and _never_ say that -

Gendry waved his arms about vaguely, and her heart battered against her ribcage, and she just wanted to make him stop, to say she took it back, he didn’t need to do any of this, but she was frozen, with her heart racing and her stomach churning and something was still crushing her chest -

“You can see whoever you want. And...”

Gods, she couldn’t take this, it was just getting worse and worse, every word was slicing more and more of her apart because she’d made everything so messed up, she didn’t _want_ to see anyone else, and she’d gone and convinced him that she did, and how was she supposed to get him to see the truth of things now? She _knew_ talking to him could be like talking to a brick wall, sometimes -

“I was with Rickon.”

And, would you look at that. She did remember how to speak. It came out a bit strangled but she just thanked the fucking Gods that it came out at all, because she couldn’t handle hearing him rationalize her own _stupid_ argument for one more second. His eyes snapped back to hers, and she watched a dozen emotions play out across his face (half of which she couldn’t name, but none of which made her feel any less tense).

“Oh.”

Her jitters hadn’t subsided in the slightest, and she thought her hands might still be shaking, and she just wished she knew what he was _thinking_ , but he didn’t seem like he had any plans to elaborate on ‘oh’ -

“He needed my help with something -”

“Fuck, I’m such an _ass_ -”

They were speaking over each other, and they both broke off at the same time. Arya swallowed, and tried to carry on, because she needed him to understand - 

“I should have just said -”

“I should’ve asked you -”

She broke off again, this time with a huff that almost sounded like a laugh. Gods, she felt deranged. She wondered how some things could be so effortless between them, but trying to get this one thing out seemed like the most difficult challenge of her adult life so far. She blinked at him, and waited for him to speak this time (because she wasn’t going to go through that whole stumbling over each other thing for a third time - she refused). And while she did, she couldn’t help but take note of the look on his face, contrite and confused and guarded. She didn’t want to think about why it made her heart feel like it was breaking, just a little. 

Gendry cleared his throat, before gesturing at her once more, this time down at her feet, where she was still wearing her slides.

“Where were you… headed, before?” At least he clearly felt as awkward as she did. He didn’t seem to know what to do with _his_ hands, either. And the fact that he was really asking that right now reminded her all too abruptly of how much he still didn’t _get_ it -

“To find you, obviously.”

Because wasn’t _that_ , at least, unmistakable? Where else would she have been going? 

She felt, for the first time that night, that she might have said the _right_ thing for once, as she watched something seem to break inside him, as he exhaled sharply and his eyes blazed and he reached out for her -

He retracted his hand almost immediately, though, and she tried not to let the disappointment overwhelm her as it jerkily made its way to the back of his neck, instead.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, so quiet she could have missed it if she wasn’t staring at him so intently. His eyes bore into hers, earnest and sad and so blue that it wasn’t even fair. The lump in her throat was back, because she didn’t know how to handle being looked at like that. She didn’t know what to do with this much feeling, but it was all bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t keep it in, not until he _knew_ -

“I am too.”

His reaction was immediate, as he shook his head and exhaled loudly through his nose and ran his hand through his hair _again_ (and maybe, just maybe, he stepped closer - but that might have just been wishful thinking, on her part).

“Don’t - you didn’t do anything -”

“No, I did, though.”

She chewed on her lip and dug her nails into her palm, and wished apologizing wasn’t so fucking hard. She had to do this, she had to get this out, it wasn’t enough that she told him she wasn’t with anyone last night, he had to know just how far that was from what she wanted, just how much she regretted the words she’d used -

“I never meant to make you feel like...”

She fucking sucked at talking about her feelings. She took another breath, and she could feel her jaw working back and forth as if that might make the words come easier, or stop her voice from shaking (it did neither).

“Like you don’t matter. To me.”

If she thought she couldn’t take the way he was looking at her before, it was _nothing_ compared to now, but she had to, she had to finish -

“You do.”

She wondered why it felt almost impossible to get the words out, when she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how true they were. Because he _did_ matter to her, more than she let herself fully understand -

“It was my fault, I’m an idiot -”

She wasn’t going to really argue any of that, he’d definitely started it, and he could _definitely_ be an idiot, but his voice was just as quiet as hers when he breathed it out, and it might have been shaking just as much as hers was too -

“Gods, would you just let me apologize, you stubborn -”

He swallowed the rest of her words with his lips on hers, and she thought her heart might jump out of her chest, and she _still_ felt like crying, but maybe this time it was from relief (because she’d thought, for a terrifying moment, that this might never happen again) -

And she loved kissing Gendry, she always had, but it seemed different this time. It wasn’t just to feel good (even though it _did_ , of course it did), it was to make him understand, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever even known what it meant to pour your whole heart into something before, but surely that was what she was doing now. 

***

Gendry wondered, as he stood in Arya Stark’s room, holding her in his arms, while she kissed him until he was dizzy, if any of this was really happening.

And if it was… _how_ it was happening.

He’d had one goal, coming back in here, to apologize and try to make things right as best he could, so when they inevitably ran into each other in the future, it wouldn’t eat him alive knowing how much she despised him -

She leapt into his arms, and her shoes slipped off as her legs wrapped around his midsection, while her hands were running through his hair and then cupping his face and then gripping the back of his neck -

 _Fuck_ , this was so much more than his sorry ass deserved. He didn’t know how he’d ended up back here, falling right back into things with her, despite all his honest intentions and how much he’d already convinced himself that this was bound to break him -

But he hadn’t been able to take it, watching her in front of him, her eyes wide and earnest and looking just as frightened as he felt. And what was he supposed to do, when she was all of a sudden apologizing to _him_ , like this whole thing wasn’t his own damn fault, and telling him everything he wanted to hear, that he’d had it all wrong, that there was no one else, that he _did_ matter to her -

He’d snapped.

He was only human, after all, and lately the strength of his self-control (or lack thereof) had been made far too clear, and he knew neither of them were great with words, so was this not maybe the best way to get his point across? That he was sorry, that he would make it up to her, that he didn’t want her to see anyone else, that he wanted her to be _his_ -

His fingers dug into her thighs, and he wondered if he was grasping her too tightly - but she wasn’t complaining, and the thought of loosening his hold, even slightly, felt more wrong than anything. She was kissing him with everything she had, and he was breathless before he even knew what was happening. She pulled away just slightly, and motioned towards her bed -

He lay her down, and slotted himself between her legs, and when she ground her center against his cock her breath hitched, and he wondered if it wasn’t the best sound he’d ever heard. His heart pounded and he was determined to commit every moment of this to memory, he wouldn't take any of it for granted, and he'd be damned if she thought there was anyone else out there for her when he was done.

He scrambled with her shirt - his shirt - whoever’s it was now, and when he pulled it off of her, and she stared up at him, bold and wanting and beautiful -

He needed to make sure she knew how he felt, for certain, if she didn’t already. And maybe he should have done that before he’d kissed her, maybe they should have talked about it with clear heads, rather than like this, with her topless beneath him and with his blood decidedly further south than his brain -

Better late than never, though, right?

***

His gaze on her caused another wave of arousal to rush through her, as it always somehow seemed to when he looked at her like that. Eyes dark, and lips parted, and so wanting, like she was the only thing he’d ever need -

And she’d already felt shaky, before he’d even touched her, so really none of this was fair, as she was nearly trembling beneath him as he brushed his thumb over her nipple. And when he leaned down, to take the other in his mouth -

She shuddered, and she couldn’t stop her hips from jerking against him, as she could feel the throb between her legs become more and more demanding, pulsing in time with her racing heart. 

He pulled his mouth away all too soon, but his fingers replaced it, as he toyed with both her nipples and sparks shot through her and she tried to keep her eyes open because she didn’t want to miss a moment of him looking at her like this -

His eyes flitted between her own, and his tongue darted out to wet his lip, and the way his fingers kept plucking at her was unbelievably distracting, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything but how much she ached for him -

“I don’t want to share you.” 

His voice was low, and she couldn’t have ever anticipated that having him say something like that would have such an effect on her, but she nearly whimpered as more heat crashed over her. Gods, she was a mess, and she was pretty sure his statement was _not_ supposed to make her even more delirious for him but of course it did -

“I can’t.”

And she could see it, beneath the heat of his gaze, and the wanting in his eyes, she could hear it in the roughened tone of his voice -

That he meant it, he wouldn’t do it, he _couldn’t_ do it, and that... maybe, he was just as scared of whatever was happening between them as she was. Her belly fluttered in an entirely different way, and her brain felt frozen, and her heart might have stopped again, but she wanted to tell him she felt the _same_ -

Because she did. She had refused to ever think on it, for her own sanity, but the idea of someone else having him like this, seeing him like this, of him _looking_ at someone else the way he looked at her -

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“I hate sharing.”

It was the best she could come up with, and maybe it wasn’t the most eloquent, or romantic, and it was absolutely breathless, but she thought she got through to him, this time, finally. Because the way he kissed her after spread warmth to the tips of her toes, and caused her stomach to flip again, and she still felt terrified, but in the best way.

Like getting to the top of a rollercoaster, knowing the drop is coming. Or like getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and realizing just how much you have to lose, now. Or -

His lips made their way along her jaw, and onto her neck, and his hand was creeping dangerously high up her thigh and she definitely didn’t have enough brain power to think up any more metaphors, or euphemisms, or whatever those were, when he was doing those kinds of things.

Everything became frantic, after that.

The need she felt for him had always been a bit frenzied, and urgent, but -

This felt like something else entirely. Like she had to have him, inside her, _now_ , to make it all real. Official, in a way, that they weren’t fighting anymore, that they forgave each other, that they needed each other just as much as they always had -

So she told him, as he sucked on her neck, and his fingers teased her slick folds where he’d pushed her loose shorts to the side. She told him, with her voice unsteady as his stroking hands made it harder and harder for to think -

That she needed him, she couldn’t wait, and she didn’t care how desperate she sounded (and, judging from the way he groaned and bucked against her - he didn’t either). 

His hands left her, while her heart thudded and her cunt ached at the loss - but it was only temporary, she knew that, and she slipped out of her shorts as hurriedly as she could while he tore his shirt off and fumbled with his sweats.

He’d barely pulled them down, but his cock was free, and the sight of it was almost enough to cause another moan to tumble out of her (she kept it together, and to herself, thank the Gods). But when she reached for him, and he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head and holding them there with one large hand, before settling between her legs and driving into her -

She saw stars, and she was sure, as she quivered around him, that keeping it remotely together from here on out was never going to happen. She could barely think, or even register what she was doing - all she knew was that he filled her perfectly, he always had, and having him surrounding her, holding her, while he slammed into her, again and again -

It did something to her that she wouldn’t have expected (or maybe it was the emotions of the whole day, or maybe it was just because it was Gendry), but she was writhing against him, her back arching, desperate for more even though it already all felt like too much. She felt completely out of control of all of her functions, the coil within her wound far too tight already as gasps and moans and sighs escaped her -

(She wondered if he was still trying to convince her, even though she’d already agreed. Convince her that she didn’t need anyone else, that nobody could make her feel like he did - as if she hadn’t already known that since their very first night together). 

She didn’t know at what point he released her hands. She hadn’t even realized he had, until her legs were trembling and her eyes slammed shut as he rubbed frantic circles into her clit, his pace never slowing. And she knew she was close, and she couldn’t take much more -

But she wanted more, regardless. And it registered in her hazy brain, finally, that her hands were free, and she rolled her nipple between her fingers, whimpering as it shot even more heat to her clit. And maybe she could have held on, a little bit longer, if she hadn’t heard him, but when he groaned, “ _Fuck,_ Arya,” her eyes flew open to meet his -

And the moment she did, and saw them dark and desperate and all of it because of _her_ -

She hadn’t meant to, necessarily, but she felt herself snap, and she tried to keep her eyes open but she couldn’t, as her back arched and she clenched around him, over and over, and she didn’t make a sound, because she didn’t have anything left inside to let out. She’d already given him everything (but if that was true, and she had nothing left - she wondered why she felt so full, rather than empty, as she would have thought she might). 

Gendry was cursing, and her heart was still racing and her legs still quivering, just slightly, and his thumb never left her clit as he pulled out and grasped his cock. With one jerky slide of his hand, he spilled on her, his breathing heavy and his lips slightly parted. She wondered, hazily, as she glanced down at the mess he’d made on her pale skin, if that wasn’t another way to claim her. To mark her as his, even though that made no sense, because it would be cleaned off soon enough, with no trace left behind -

But it made her heart stutter just the same. 

He leaned over her, eyes shut and forehead rested against hers, and she listened to his breathing, trying to calm her own. 

She ran her fingernails down his back, and he let out a low rumble of satisfaction, before kissing her softly and rolling off of her.

She couldn’t say how long they lay there, while their hearts finally slowed and their breathing evened out, but eventually a shiver ran over her, and she figured she’d better take care of a couple basic things, like cleaning herself up and getting dressed, no matter how unappealing the thought of _moving_ was. She’d tossed his t-shirt back on (it was pretty much hers now, let’s be real) and when she returned from the bathroom to find him sitting up on her bed, his shoulders hunched a bit -

“Will you stay?” And she wished she wasn’t just a little bit nervous, but somehow she was, still. Nervous that she’d imagined it all, or he hadn’t meant any of it, and now that he’d got what he wanted he would leave -

But he’d grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her down onto him, mumbling into her hair that _of course_ he would, and he held her like she was something absolutely precious, rather than an emotional mess of a girl -

(That was almost enough to cause her throat to constrict _again_ , she wasn’t exaggerating when she said she felt like a mess, alright?)

And hours later, after she’d had him again (slower and gentler this time, each rock of her hips another ‘I’m sorry’ -), and he dozed beside her -

She took in the straight line of his nose, and his long, dark eyelashes, and his stupid messy hair, and her heart clenched again when the reality of it all washed over her once more.

She didn’t want this thing between them to be fragile. She’d had a flash, a moment, a glimpse, where she thought it might be done -

And it had terrified her. 

And maybe they didn’t have a name for it, and maybe it still wasn’t completely figured out, and maybe it was still stupid and dangerous, but -

She had to protect it. This thing between them, whatever it was, it was too important to mess up.

(And so, maybe, nothing had really unraveled at all. Maybe it had started to take on a new shape, instead, and she just hadn’t recognized it for a moment. Maybe she should _thank_ Rickon -

Okay, no. That was definitely going too far.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy xoxoxo  
> Thank you to everyone who is reading! It means so much to me/also makes me extra nervous hahaha  
> Next update will be a while longer than usual as I am going out of town :))


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO my old friends  
> It's been a hot minute  
> Sorry for the delay, as some ppl know I went on vacation and happened to get engaged *sobs* and then wound up extremely distracted and uninterested in anything that did not involve my future wedding :))))  
> To everyone who checked in on me on Tumblr you are beautiful souls, sorry if you were worried xoxoxo  
> I'm feeling very happy and in love and that will probably seep into the rest of this story a bit, sorry not sorry :)))

She’d woken up beside Gendry plenty of times before. It was getting to the point where she couldn’t properly count the amount of times, really. Never in her own bed, like she was now, but somehow she had the feeling that that wasn’t necessarily what was making the difference here. 

She was all too aware of his presence behind her, with one arm underneath her head while the other rubbed soft circles into her hip, under the shirt she’d thrown back on. She figured he must be awake, at least a little, but he didn’t seem to be in any particular rush to move. 

She felt the soft, even puffs of his breath on the back of her neck, and the solid weight of his hand where it rested against her. She felt…

Content. And cared about, and safe, and all of that was great and everything, and she’d love to hang out like this for the foreseeable future, but -

She was also really fucking hot. Their dorms didn’t exactly have high-tech AC units (especially considering they were never supposed to be in a heat wave like this to begin with). Loathe as she was to move, she was pretty sure she couldn’t stand this for one more minute. Her cheeks felt flushed, and she could feel prickles of heat ( _not_ the fun kind) running over her body. She may also have a bit of sweat forming between her breasts and, really, this spooning thing was cute in theory, but in their current conditions it just wasn’t quite working for her.

She made to wriggle away, which only succeeded in causing Gendry to shuffle closer and hum into her hair. She couldn’t stop the small grin that stole across her face at the similarities to their very first morning together. Even then he’d been reluctant to let her pull away, determined to keep them in their cozy cocoon for as long as possible. The parallels made her smile, but she couldn’t help but notice that things were, on the whole, inconceivably different now. How had so much changed, so drastically, in such a short amount of time? From that first night, where she didn’t even know what she was getting into, to now, where -

Okay, she didn’t have the bandwidth for this kind of deep thinking right now. She was overheating. In danger of combusting, really. Something had to be done.

In what could potentially be perceived to be a somewhat dramatic fashion, she tossed the covers off and let out a loud, disparaging sigh. 

“You are an oven,” she complained, trying (and failing) to sound genuinely annoyed. Because, clearly, this was all his fault. She didn’t have problems like this when she was here alone, so. She twisted onto her back, and wished the way his hair was flattened on one side and his cheek had slight creases from her pillow didn’t make her stomach swoop. (Well, she kind of wished. Sort of. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, actually, because his eyes were boring into hers, still the most ridiculous shade of blue that she’s sure she should be able to describe better by now but somehow can’t, and -)

And then he was nodding, sagely, and somehow he was closer than ever, leaning over her, and her heartbeat seemed too loud and his lips were so close -

“Right. Because I’m hot.”

The crooked smile that spread across his face sent the _right_ kind of heat straight through to her toes but she couldn’t let him know _that_ , not when he was being this fucking cheesy -

“Gods, you look way too proud of yourself for thinking of that.” She half-heartedly shoved at his chest, even though, despite the temperature, she somehow no longer actually wanted him to move. And he _knew_ she didn’t actually want him to move. Gods dammit. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, and his hand was toying with the bottom of... ‘their’ shirt. His fingers brushed against her skin, and his lips were on her jaw, trailing down, and her throat went dry -

“Just you wait. I’m only pre-heating,” he chuckled against her, in between kisses. Oh _Gods_. She didn’t have to fake the groan that tumbled out of her at this even more horrific statement. She had to do something about this immediately.

“Who told you these dad jokes were okay? Because they’re not. They -”

She broke off as his lips explored further down, brushing the spot just below her ear that never failed to make her shake, just a little bit, and his hand roamed dangerously high up beneath her shirt, and he slotted himself between her legs and she could feel that there was nothing but his briefs separating them -

Alright, fuck it. Maybe she could forgive him a couple of bad jokes. Just this once. If it made him this _happy_. Her lower belly was already clenching in anticipation, even though she could still feel the ghost of him from the night before.

Would she ever get enough?

She tugged on his hair, dragging his mouth up to meet hers -

“Well, good morning!” 

Arya groaned once more as Gendry pulled away from her, looking up to find Meera, one hand on her hip, looking _far_ too amused.

“I see you made the most of my absence,” she grinned, making no move to pretend she wasn’t staring at them. Arya tried to ignore the flush that was spreading across her chest and how flaming she was certain her cheeks were. There was no use trying to deny anything at this point, was there? Their state of (un)dress coupled with their current position left little to the imagination as to what they had been up to. Plus, well. Meera was already all too aware that she found Gendry ‘indescribable’. None of this should really come as a shock to anyone.

Gendry rolled off of her quickly, the tips of his ears red as he scrambled to pull on his shirt. He mumbled something about having to get to work anyway, and Arya couldn’t help the small tug of disappointment somewhere in the vicinity of her vital organs. She tried to ignore it, because of course he would have to leave at _some_ point. But, still. She hadn’t had _enough_ yet. What poor timing Meera had. She tried not to frown.

After pulling on his sweats, Gendry’s eyes flickered shiftily between herself and Meera, before he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead and rushed out the door. Her stomach flipped again.

It had been a simple gesture. Soft, and quick, and likely entirely too trivial for it to make her feel the way it did. Like she was completely lit up from the inside, and there was no way that anyone who took one look at her wouldn’t notice the glow. She had to get a grip on herself.

Before Meera could remark on anything, Arya relished the opportunity to question _her_ for once. It’s not like Arya was the only one having an eventful evening, after all. Meera had, indeed, been out all night with a man of her own. As Meera flopped down onto her bed with an aggrieved sigh and began her tale, Arya couldn’t help but grin as she recounted her evening. She had met a ‘handsome lad’, in her terms, and they’d had a nice enough time. He lived on his own, which was a huge plus, but he couldn’t find the clit to save his life, leaving Meera with the ‘dreadful quandary’ of determining whether she had the energy to to help him figure it out, or even the patience to give the whole thing another go at all. Arya tried to keep her snorts to herself during the re-telling, but she figured she must not have had all that much success, as Meera eventually tossed a pillow at her head. 

Arya tried not to look too pleased at the fact that, for all her other issues, Meera’s struggles were not her own. No matter what emotional turmoil she’d been going through since this whole Gendry thing had started - at least she was always being satisfied. Thoroughly.

Meera seemed to catch the look on her face, though, and demanded to be caught up on whatever she had missed. Arya, uncomfortably reminded of the fact that her face felt hot enough to fry an egg on, summarized the whirlwind of an evening as concisely as she could.

Because it was simple enough, really. Just that they weren’t seeing anyone else, and she told him she cared about him, and he -

He cared about her, too. 

She tried to stop smiling. (She couldn’t.)

Because for the first time, she was talking about it without trying to convince her audience (and, more importantly, herself) that it wasn’t a big deal. It kind of _was_.

If she had known how much simpler that would make everything, she might have tried it a little bit earlier.

***

“Theon knows.”

At this unexpected declaration, Gendry froze, before frowning down at Arya in confusion. He was lounging on her bed as she lay splayed on her back with her head on his chest, somehow managing to highlight her readings while holding them above her. It didn’t look particularly comfortable or efficient, but he hadn’t had any desire for her to move. He’d been gently dragging his nails across her scalp, hoping that would be enough to entice to her to stay put. Now she was blinking up at him, the picture of innocence, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him out of the middle of nowhere. 

“How?” It came out more strangled than he appreciated. 

“He saw me eat your pickle.”

“That’s - what?” He now sounded more strangled than ever, and he could _see_ the way Arya’s were dancing, as if this was all somehow amusing and not humiliating -

Because surely Theon couldn’t have seen -

He cursed the heat he felt prickling up the back of his neck at the thought of Arya’s mouth on him. That’s not what she meant, obviously. She wouldn’t look so smug if it was. Right?

She had a full-blown smirk on her face at this point, before she flipped herself over far more gracefully than any human being had any right to and carried on.

“At the pub. The one off your burger.” He blinked at her. The way her eyes sparkled was terribly distracting, and she was so close, and she was _teasing_ him -

Yes. Teasing him. Something about a damn burger and a _pickle_. Because that made all the sense in the world.

“Right.” If she wasn’t going to elaborate, he certainly wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of asking any more questions. He refused to fall into her trap.

“What’d you think I meant?” And with the way she raised a brow, and her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip - 

His cock twitched, but he narrowed his eyes at her regardless. She _knew_ what he’d thought she meant. Of that, he was sure. That’s the whole reason she’d framed it the way she had, to distract him. 

To keep his mind off of it, at least for a moment, that their secret was known to one more person. One more person who could give them up, let something slip - one more person who had weaseled their way into this little bubble that they had managed to keep (mostly) to themselves. 

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Curiosity won out, and he resigned that he would have to ask her after all, because nothing she was saying was making any damn sense.

“What does a pickle have to do with anything?” 

Arya pouted below him, and he tried to ignore the way _that_ made his cock twitch just as much. He had to focus, because he clearly wasn’t following. He was hoping to get the gist of everything sooner rather than later, here.

“I didn’t even notice, and I guess you didn’t either - I suppose that was the most obvious part to him. You just took it off and passed it to me and I just ate it like a complete idiot - honestly, we really have to be more careful.”

Gendry frowned down at her, trying to determine whether or not she was still fucking with him, because this whole thing sounded ridiculous. He didn’t remember giving Arya any pickles, but -

Well, he knew she liked them. And he didn’t like them. But so what if he had? He’d thought he _was_ being careful. Careful not to look at her too often, or touch her too much (or, at all, really) - 

None of those things included anything to do with pickles. So. Maybe it had happened. It’s not like he was on high alert for something like that. Because that was _ridiculous_.

Arya seemed to pick up on his continued skepticism, and rolled her eyes. 

“He cornered me later. It was too _familiar_ , he said. That you didn’t ask, and I didn’t think twice about it.” She shrugged. “He won’t say anything.”

Gendry let out a sigh, primarily through his nose. The thought of Theon knowing _any_ of their private business didn’t exactly have him jumping for joy, but -

Arya didn’t seem too devastated by this news. She was still looking up at him, her grey eyes wide and earnest. If she was fine with this -

He felt a little bit… relieved, actually. He hadn’t expected that. Sure, it was just Theon, and he probably didn’t give two fucks what anyone did. But. It still made what they had just a little less secretive. 

He couldn’t deny that that made it seem a little more... real. And _that_ -

Well, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.

An odd sense of warmth was spreading through his chest, and he tried to fight down the dopey grin that he could tell was fighting to spread across his face. 

He lost that battle too, and leaned back instead, one arm thrown behind his head, the other returning to her hair. 

“So.” 

Arya cocked an eyebrow at him, any worry she might have had about his own reaction disappearing at the stupid smile he knew he was doing a shit job at hiding.

“You can eat my pickle anytime you want, y’know.” The grin was out of control now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he knew how she would react -

“Oh my Gods,” she groaned, flinging her head back onto his chest and seeming as if she was trying to burrow into him. He tried to contain his mirth, causing his chest to shake until she finally popped her head up.

“You didn’t even come _up_ with that, I said it first.” She was smiling, though, and her eyes were light. He didn’t say anything, knowing that would just get her going even more -

“You really think you’re funny, eh?”

He didn’t stop grinning, and all he could do was shrug. The jokes themselves might not be top tier, but her reactions certainly were, and he wasn’t planning on depriving himself of those any time soon. He was still chuckling, feeling satisfied, as he always did, that he had riled her up -

But when she ran her hand over him, and scooted down, looking up at him through her eyelashes with her intentions more than clear -

He stopped laughing pretty quick, then.

***

Rickon was the next to know. 

He called again, as she had been somehow both hoping he would and hoping he wouldn’t at the same time. It was closer to 4 AM this time, and she couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. It definitely meant she was groggy as hell when she finally found her phone, still in the back pocket of the denim shorts Gendry had peeled off of her earlier that evening. She pleaded with herself for patience as she picked up the phone and listened to her little brother’s drunken rambling. This time, at least, she managed to piece together where he was and, with as firm of a hand as she could, demanded he _stay put_ until she got there. Muttering under her breath, she let out a string of choice expletives, and others that, even she had to admit, were really subpar. It was late, alright? Or - early. Whatever.

Midway through pulling her shorts on, she had to switch the cursing to _herself,_ upon realizing that all of her hissing had unsurprisingly woken the man whose bed she’d been contentedly sleeping in prior to this interruption.

Gendry rolled towards her, and _fuck_ she wished the way his eyes looked when they were all sleepy didn’t tug at her damn heart because she didn’t have time for any of this right now, she had a rescue mission to complete -

“Come back to bed,” he rasped. Gods dammit. Just the sound of his voice, rough from disuse, was enough to send a bolt of heat right through her. Why did Rickon have to do this to her? She ignored the fact that she had basically begged him to call her if he ever needed help. It was so much more convenient to just be irritated when he was causing her to be deprived like this. 

She stayed where she was, knowing the dangers of getting any closer to Gendry when he was looking and sounding like he was. Then she’d never leave, and would go down in history as the worst sister of all sisters of all _time_. 

“I’ve gotta go,” she whispered apologetically, and something in her tone must have finally clued him in to the fact that something was actually going on. He blinked a couple of times, and frowned at her, before -

“D’you want me to drive you?”

She almost choked on the retort that she’d been about to throw back, not even sure what she was planning on saying. Something along the lines of ‘I really do have to go, I don’t have time to talk, go back to sleep’, but instead -

“You don’t even know where I’m going,” she breathed out. She wished she didn’t sound like she’d just had the wind knocked out of her, but -

Well, that was kind of how she felt. He was offering to come with her? Now? When he didn’t even know where the hell she had to go or what she had to do? She couldn’t name the feeling that was rushing through her, but it made her feel somehow hot and cold all at the same time. Gendry was sitting up now, and the image he made, sitting there fucking shirtless with his stupid shoulders and his stupid abs and his stupid offer to help her -

No wonder she couldn’t breathe. 

He rubbed his eyes, shrugged a bit, and reached to grab his shirt. She realized she hadn’t actually _agreed_ , and maybe if she herself was a bit more awake she would have found the energy to argue, and say that she could do this alone, she didn’t _need_ his help -

She didn’t really want to argue, though. Not right now. Not with him, anyway.

“Thanks,” was all she said, instead. And when he looked back at her, and muttered, “‘course,” -

She _knew_ this whole thing with him wasn’t good for her health. How many times did she have to tell herself that? Her throat felt constricted and there was something crushing her chest and her stomach was fluttering and -

She’d get a grip on herself soon enough.

Hopefully, before she died of whatever in seven hells this was.

***

Gendry watched Arya from the corner of his eye as he followed the directions she had on her phone. He hadn’t been all too convinced that she would accept any help from him at all, but somehow, here they were.

(He knew it likely had more to do with the fact that his truck was parked right outside, while her own vehicle was back at hers. It just made more sense this way. It was faster. More convenient. That was all.)

But he couldn’t help but feel like… maybe it was a little bit more than that. Especially when she told him where they were going, as quiet as she was when they were still at his place, sneaking about. To get her brother, again, because he needed help, _again_ , and how she was worried about him… always. She chewed on her lip as she told him, her eyes straight ahead, staring down the dark road in front of them but somehow, he knew, seeing none of it. And as much as he wished he could soothe her worries, say something constructive, fix everything that was going on here -

He knew he couldn’t do that, and he knew she didn’t need him to. She was used to doing things on her own. The fact that he was here at all was…

Something. He didn’t know what, really. But it felt like something.

“Here,” she murmured, and he’d slowed down on what appeared (to him, anyway) to be a fairly harmless suburban street. He didn’t see anything, at first, but all of a sudden Arya let out a curse and stomped out of the truck before he could even say a word. She stormed across the lawn, making contact with a large, lean, swaying shape -

This must be the brother in question.

Gendry slid out hurriedly, rushing to help. How in seven hells had she managed this on her own before? Rickon had to be three times her size. She had gotten his arm thrown around her shoulder, and was trying to coax him towards the truck.

He grabbed Rickon’s other arm, and the grateful look Arya shot his way as they made much quicker progress spread that same warmth through his chest that he was starting to become a little bit too familiar with.

Together, they tucked Rickon into the back seat, where he lay on his side and murmured nonsense all the while. Gendry had been strapped back into the driver's seat, Arya beside him, for what felt like an eternity (realistically, it was probably closer to thirty seconds, _maybe_ a minute) before he couldn’t stand the silence or the crease between her brows any longer.

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, silently wishing he was better at things like this. More… comforting. That he knew what to say.

He didn’t, though, so he just threw out the first thing he could think of.

“Where to now?”

It seemed, to him, that Arya let out a breath at this, before shooting him a half-smile and a quiet response.

***

They ended up outside a 24-hour diner, on the outskirts of town. Arya grabbed them some coffees, and they sipped them in silence, watching the sky lighten around them.

This was kind of nice, actually. If it weren’t for her snoring and inebriated little brother in the back, he might have considered it almost romantic.

When Arya finally broke the silence, he jumped a bit. It had been so quiet for so long. She kept her voice low, but he could hear the apology in it clear as day.

“I should have said, before. I’ll have to take him back to school. Once he’s sobered up.”

“Alright.”

She just blinked at him.

“It’s a bit of a ways.”

“S’fine.”

“You don’t have anywhere to be?”

“I’ve got time.”

She smiled at him, a little bit shakily, and when she grabbed his hand and weaved her fingers through his, the warmth spread further, faster, than any time before.

***

Rickon woke, as he always seemed to, with far too much energy considering the state he’d been in just a few hours before. Arya felt that if he had the opportunity to experience a proper hangover, just one time, it would go a long way. It would have to happen eventually, and she, for one, could not fucking wait.

Especially as he burst out boisterous declarations along the lines of, ‘who is _this_?’ and ‘my my, how’d you convince this lad to drive you around all night, eh?’ and ‘does _mom_ know about him?’ -

After that last one, she’d had no choice but to snort a derisive ‘fuck off,’ before storming back into the diner. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and tried to soothe the irritation that was prickling over her. She was never in the best of moods without the proper sleep, alright?

She grabbed coffees and breakfast for the three of them, before stomping back to the truck. She launched herself in, not wanting to wait one more second to dive into this breakfast sandwich that would hopefully bring her back to life -

She couldn’t help but notice, as she did so, that both Gendry _and_ Rickon were now looking supremely uncomfortable. 

_Fucking great_.

Leave these two alone for five minutes and who in seven hells knows what they managed to get into. Clearly it was nothing good. Gendry, to be fair, was often uncomfortable. Rickon, though -

She frowned as she watched him take a sip of his coffee. He was harder to rattle. She narrowed her eyes at Gendry suspiciously, who merely shrugged. 

She sighed. 

***

Gendry wondered, as they wound their way back to Rickon’s school, if it was possible to be any more uncomfortable. He had thought himself used to silences. Honestly, he would normally say that he preferred them, but now -

This silence was not comfortable. He could _feel_ it, somehow, all around him, suffocating him -

It just didn’t seem right.

Rickon had been even chattier than Arya until she’d left them alone and he’d gone and opened his stupid mouth. Hadn’t he already determined that he wasn’t going to be of much help here, other than providing a vehicle and a helping hand?

It was just -

He’d had nights like Rickon’s, before. A few times. And it’s not like that made them the same. He was aware of that. He didn’t know what was going on with the youngest Stark any better than he knew what the sand felt like in Dorne, but -

He knew what it was like to feel as though nobody saw you when you were just... there. Like you always had to do something, something big, something destructive, just to be reminded -

Reminded that you’re cared about, and you’re not alone.

Rickon wasn’t alone - of that he was certain. That’s all he’d wanted to convey.

He’s not sure it came out right, like most things he tried to say. But he gave it a shot.

Now, as his skin crawled and they kept going on this seemingly endless drive, he kind of wished he hadn’t.

***

They dropped Rickon off, with a wave and what she hoped was a meaningful and only slightly threatening look. Arya was fucking exhausted as they began the trip back, wondering what in seven hells had gotten into Rickon to actually make him shut up for once, and if it just meant that he would be even _worse_ now -

She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She wanted to think about something _else_ , something _good_ -

She glanced over at Gendry, one hand on the wheel with his jaw tense and his eyes -

Fuck.

She chewed on her lip, briefly, considering -

Okay, who was she kidding. Her mind was made up the second she looked at him.

“Turn right, up ahead.” He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise but didn’t, to her satisfaction, question it. She knew he had to be as tired as she was, but -

She was sure this would improve her mood. (And, she didn’t want to be arrogant, or anything, but she doubted he would mind too much either.)

They took a couple more turns, until they were winding down a shady, forested road. Her family used to camp along here, when she was little. Back when they were all a unit, and it wasn’t so hard to get everyone to do anything together. She could hear the river rushing, to her left, and soon enough they could see it through the trees, clear and beautiful and _cold_. 

She could sense it, before he said anything, that he was about to ask -

She cut him off before he could, and told him to pull over, down a slight incline until they were almost at the river’s edge. It was shaded, here, and peaceful, and -

She felt better already.

He parked the truck, and only had a second to look over at her waiting for an explanation before she was grabbing him and crashing her lips to his. She was twisted across the seat, and it wasn’t entirely comfortable, but she didn’t care in the slightest, not when she could feel his heart hammering underneath her palm, and he tasted like coffee and she’s sure she did too -

She broke away, briefly, breathlessly, and let out, “I wanted to thank you. Properly.”

Her wandering hands, now raking across the top of his jeans, left little doubt as to her intentions. Because she _did_ want to thank him. He had to be just as tired as she, and none of this should have been his problem, and he hadn't complained at all, and she didn't know how to _say_ any of that and how it made her feel with only her _words_ -

“What - now? It’s kind of - bright -”

Her heart skipped a beat at the way his voice had lowered, and at how little conviction he even tried to put into his protests. His eyes were dark, and his hair was a mess, and the way he looked at her never failed to cause a jolt in her lower belly, and -

“I want you,” she whispered, pulling back despite her words. She slid out of her shorts in record time, leaning back against her seat. Her left hand dragged slowly up her thigh as she widened her legs, opening herself up to him. Despite her being the one in control of this, she could hear her heart hammering with anticipation as she got closer and closer to her center. Gendry’s eyes had widened, just slightly, and his lips were parted, and his gaze was glued to her hand, and the whole thing just made her ache -

“I mean, if you’d rather just watch -”

She’d barely got the words out before he was cursing, and his own seat was tilting down, and sliding back, and she had the briefest moment to wonder if he’d done something like this before, until -

“C’mere,” he breathed, and his hands were on her, and -

She didn’t care if he’d done this before, she only cared that he was doing it _now_ , with her. She didn’t care that it was broad daylight, or that it was awkward, at times, to get themselves where they needed to be -

Because eventually she was sinking down onto him, and she was seeing stars, and everything…

Everything felt right, again. 

(After, when she was trying to catch her breath, and she smiled at him -

Gods, she just felt so much better. She _knew_ this would improve her mood. What had she ever done before they started all of this? She couldn’t seem to recall.)

***

When Rickon called her the next week, her heart sunk, initially, to see his name pop up on her screen. It was barely noon, for fuck's sake, and she wasn’t ready to go through this again -

He’d surprised her, though, as his voice rang out strong and clear. He thanked her for coming to get him, yet again, and she was so flustered by the whole thing that when he told her, his cheeky grin somehow unbelievably clear despite the fact that she couldn’t even see him, that her boyfriend was alright, she didn’t even bother contradicting him. 

Because she knew, ‘exclusive’ or not, that her and Gendry weren’t, like, dating. And she would have set the record straight, obviously, if he hadn’t surprised her the way he had.

Totally.

(And when it crossed her mind, after, that she'd have to remind him not to say a word about this to Jon -

She ignored that, for now, too.

They'd handle that situation soon enough. Eventually. Maybe.)


	9. Chapter 9

Everything in Gendry’s life was, for the first time that he could ever remember, perfect.

(Well, almost.)

He was happier than he’d ever been. Especially when he thought about the fact that he had found a girl who felt right in his arms, whose smile made _him_ smile, whose soft looks made his chest feel fit to burst -

But.

He had one minor problem to contend with. That being the fact that he still lived with Jon, and he was still fucking (although, really, that term seemed to fall a bit short of whatever it was they were now doing) Jon’s sister, and the man in question still had no Gods-damned idea that any of this was going on -

He couldn’t help the feeling nagging at the back of his mind that said this could only end in disaster. Wouldn’t it make the inevitable fallout worse, the longer it went on? 

(He would have expected his own guilt to have increased exponentially the longer they spent sneaking around. Somehow, the opposite had happened. Because really, he only had _time_ to feel anything close to remorse when he was alone, and -

Well, his alone time had decreased significantly in the past few months.

And despite always coveting it, before, he found that he somehow didn’t mind this fact all that much.)

But that didn’t change the fact that Jon had to find out eventually. 

Right?

Every now and again the even _more_ unpleasant thought would cross his mind that maybe…

Maybe Arya had no plans for Jon to find out ever.

He tried not to think about that at _all_.

Because if Arya was fine with keeping this thing with him a secret from her favourite sibling, permanently... 

He was (clearly) no expert on shit like this, but he couldn’t imagine that that could possibly mean anything good for him.

He did his best to push all of these grim, niggling worries to the back of his mind whenever they tried to rise up, because, really, everything was perfect.

Almost.

***

“You guys _are_ dating, though.”

Arya glared at Meera.

Hadn’t she filled her in on the realities of the situation enough times?

Her and Gendry were _not_ dating.

She tried, once again, to explain the facts to Meera.

That they weren’t dating. They just weren’t seeing other people, and they cared about each other, and they spent most nights together -

Actually, when it was all laid out in a row, like that -

She could see why Meera was getting confused.

(Truth be told, _she_ was confused.)

Because she _wasn’t_ dating Gendry.

She was pretty sure.

Because wouldn’t he have to ask her, or something? Wouldn’t it have been stated? Hells, wouldn’t they have gone on some type of _date_? If nothing else, you’d think, if they were dating, that she would _know_. But she didn’t know. So, the only logical conclusion she could draw was that they _weren’t_.

And she really, really wanted to be fine with that. And she kind of was. Almost.

Okay - not really. At all.

But she didn’t want to think about the parts that she wasn’t fine with. Was that so wrong? She wanted to focus on the _good_ (because there was so, _so_ much good). Not on the small teensy problem that he didn’t actually want to be with her for real.

Her largest problem (or piece of evidence, if you will, that a problem existed at all) was Jon. More specifically, the fact that Jon didn’t know, and Gendry didn’t seem to be in any rush to inform him. Because if they were dating, wouldn’t Gendry not want to sneak around anymore? Wouldn’t he want everything out in the open?

She chewed on her lip and glowered at Meera once again (as if this predicament was somehow _her_ fault).

“Wouldn’t he -”

She cut herself off abruptly. Voicing her concerns out loud seemed… unnerving, in a way. Like once she said the words, they would be true, and she would watch Meera come to the same conclusion that she herself had already drawn -

And she just didn’t really want to go through that at the moment, alright?

Arya sighed. If she didn’t get this out, though, she would probably die of an aneurysm or something. People likely weren’t supposed to think themselves around and around in circles like this as aggressively as she did for such prolonged periods of time.

So, despite her misgivings, she steeled herself and gave it another go.

“Wouldn't he want to stop hiding it?” She cursed her voice for coming out so small and _sensitive_ -sounding. 

Meera just blinked at her.

“Maybe he does.”

Arya rolled her eyes. Why did she bother trying to go over this with anyone? She wasn’t exactly getting world-class wisdom, here.

“He _doesn’t._ He would have said by now.”

Her roommate raised an eyebrow, and Arya tried to ignore the look on her face.

“Do _you_ want to stop hiding it?”

Ugh. Why did talking about what _she_ wanted have to make her skin itch? She knew this was a bad idea. This wouldn’t get her anywhere, she already felt worse than she did at the start -

She felt herself give a curt nod as she avoided Meera’s gaze. Gods dammit. She had given herself away, and now the conversation was going to _continue_ , and she was going to spend the next who knows how long thinking about the bad parts, and hadn’t she just decided that she only wanted to focus on the good parts and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with that?

How had this happened? She was so -

“Have _you_ said anything?”

Arya frowned at Meera. 

She hadn’t had any intention of having this entire conversation be about _her_. It was supposed to be about Gendry, and how they weren’t dating, and how it was fine, or something -

“No.”

The words were forced out through her teeth. Why did she keep participating? What in Seven Hells was wrong with her?

Meera kept looking at her, both eyebrows up, as if she was missing something very important, and like she was maybe a complete idiot, and -

Oh. 

***

They didn’t talk about any of it. Not really.

Not the way Gendry figured people probably should. 

(Although, fuck what people _should_ do. Hadn’t he thrown out any semblance of doing what he ‘should’ that very first night with her?)

He supposed, sometimes, when she was still shaking beneath him, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed over (because _Gods_ , it made him feel fucking invincible - ) -

He could ask her, and they could talk about it, and chances are it would go just fine, and they could even take a step forwards, maybe -

Or.

She could tell him it wasn’t anything, and it wasn’t ‘going anywhere’, and at some point she’d meet someone else who made her feel like it was _something_ and then -

Everything would be ruined. 

(Because it was fine, like this, when he didn’t know for sure. Really.)

***

Arya never would have believed that one little assignment for Intro to Astronomy would end up setting off such an astounding domino effect, changing the course of -

Well, everything, she supposed.

(She shouldn’t be surprised, though, really, because wasn’t her life always going this way?)

***

Absentmindedly, she chewed on her bottom lip as she sat at the counter working on her assignment (she wished somebody would have told her Astronomy would suck this much. She’d thought planets and moons would be fun; she had been in for a very unpleasant surprise). She tried to ignore the way Gendry’s breath on the back of her neck as he leaned in to look at her screen made her pulse quicken.

She couldn’t be getting distracted right now.

Besides, it was the middle of the day, and Jon was home -

“It’s a glowing nebulae.”

His voice was quiet, but she’d still been ready to shoot him a glare (just based on _principle_ , he should know better than to try and distract her right now) - 

Instead she just blinked at him in surprise.

“What?” He grumbled.

She took in the frowning, almost sheepish look on his face, and the self-conscious little shrug he gave made her heart flip over.

“Nothing. It’s just -”

He was too close to her again. How was she supposed to think when he was this close to her? She could smell his soap, and something else, that something that she could never name but that was just _him_ -

Her heart raced even though all he was doing was standing there, close to her, talking about planets, or stars, or whatever a ‘glowing nebool’ was -

Right. That’s what she was saying.

“You really are a giant nerd.” She fought down the grin that was trying to steal it’s way across her face, knowing he would scoff and deny it (he did). 

But then he was leaning in closer (how could he even _get_ any closer?) and he was murmuring that she should know, by now, that there was nothing wrong with knowing a thing or two, was there? His hand was on her lower back, and she tried to stop the flush that was spreading up her chest and calm her now hammering heart, because she actually really had to get this stupid thing done. And besides, Jon was -

Oh. 

Jon was ambling into the kitchen, where she sat at the counter plain as day, with Gendry far closer than he needed to be, and -

She knew Jon wasn’t the most observant guy around (even that was putting it generously) but she had to admit that it probably wouldn’t take a detective to point out a few things here that weren’t exactly as they should be. Her heart skipped a beat and she tried to remember how to breathe. Her brain froze for a second, before picking up at hyper-speed. 

She just needed a plan. They’d be fine. She just had to act natural, that was all. Get their story straight. This was totally fine. Gendry was helping her with her assignment. That was technically true, right? So. It’s not like they were doing anything _wrong_. Jon didn’t need to know about the things his roommate had just whispered in her ear, and the way it made her heart pound and her breath catch -

Jon had his arms crossed against his chest, though, and his eyes were darting between the two of them with far more overt suspicion than she was necessarily comfortable with. 

Fuck.

She took another deep breath, and schooled her features into her most innocent expression.

Gendry, though -

Gods, Jon was already suspicious enough without him acting this way. She fought down the urge to roll her eyes at the way he’d leaped away from her and was now standing stiff as a board, a flush creeping up his neck. 

Nothing like acting like you had just been caught doing something you absolutely shouldn’t have to try to convince someone of your innocence. 

_Idiot_. 

Arya determinedly focused back on her assignment, pretending she cared even the slightest bit about the moons of Jupiter (really, she didn’t have the energy to focus on _anything_ other than breathing. In and out, in and out. This was fine. They’d be fine.). She could feel the tension in Gendry radiating off of him, and tried to will him, with the force of her mind, to calm down and act natural for _once_. 

(She didn’t have high hopes for her success.)

“So, Gendry.” 

Arya peered up through her lashes at Jon, still with his arms crossed. 

Okay. Not great. 

He didn’t seem to have relaxed much, and he was definitely frowning. And his voice was a bit too loud, like he wasn’t feeling very natural either -

“How are things going with that girl you’re seeing?”

For one delusional second, Arya felt like cackling. Why was this happening? This was what Jon wanted to talk about? Now? With her, the girl in question, sitting there with her heart still racing from how close his lips had just been to her ear?

She chanced a glance over at Gendry who, to nobody’s surprise, was looking extremely guilty. Gods, he was the worst actor around. Why had she thought he could keep up any kind of a ruse? They should have told Jon months ago. It was a miracle he was still in the dark, and that miracle was about to implode, and everything was about to crash down around them -

Gendry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting about as he clearly tried to think of what to say. Arya wanted to sink through her chair to the floor - were they really going to do this now? She wasn’t ready, she wasn’t prepared, she didn’t want to do it today -

Gendry’s eyes flashed to her, just once, just quickly, but hopefully it was enough for him to _know_ , to see the panic on her face, to give her a break, for once, _please_ -

It was.

“Good. Um, things are good. Great, actually.” 

Despite her panic, Arya couldn’t stop the little piece inside of her chest that softened, because things were kind of great, weren’t they? 

Jon appeared to still be glowering at Gendry, and Arya wasn’t entirely sure what point he was trying to get across with this line of questioning -

She’s pretty sure Gendry didn’t either, because he just kept talking. It was rare, for him, and the more words that tumbled out of his mouth the more impossible it felt to keep the smile off her face. Things he’d never told her, but she _knew_ he meant -

Things like how the girl he was seeing was funny, and kind, and smart, and too feisty for her own good, sometimes (she almost snorted at that one - she wasn’t so sure she agreed). And of _course_ he’d say all this to Jon, everything bursting out in a confused and rambling flood, while she sat there and pretended like this had nothing to do with her -

She wanted to erupt with giddiness and wring his neck at the same time. Couldn’t he have thought to do this when they were alone? So she could show him, properly, what it meant to hear him say these things?

Jon interrupted, finally, seeming to sense that this stream of endearments may not be coming to an end anytime soon (Arya kind of wishes he hadn’t, if she’s honest. She _was_ enjoying hearing all of these delightful things about herself, despite the decidedly less-than-perfect setting). 

“Sounds serious, man. Just… probably wouldn’t want to mess it up, aye? If you love her so much?” It came out like a bit of a threat, and Jon still looked like he wanted to burn a hole straight through Gendry, but Arya couldn’t really focus on any of that when it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her. Now _she_ was the one stiff as a board, and if either of them would look away from whatever intense staring contest they thought they were a part of, they would have noticed. 

(They didn’t, though. Men.) 

She could hear her heart hammering in her chest, and feel the tension all along her spine as she sat there, ramrod straight, waiting for him to _say_ something, to deny it, or -

Because he would deny it, right?

Of course he would. That would be the only thing that would make sense, and she was ready for it, kind of, as ready as someone can be for that sort of thing -

He still didn’t say anything, and she couldn’t breathe, and why was he suddenly so fucking quiet when he couldn’t shut up thirty seconds ago? She wondered if she might pass out. It’s not like people didn’t need oxygen to maintain their consciousness and, also, you know, their entire fucking existence.

She knew this whole romance thing was bad for her health.

When he finally did speak, she almost missed it, so busy swirling around in her own thoughts -

“Yeah.”

His voice was low, and he wasn’t even looking at her, still staring at Jon like he could make him understand everything with the force of gaze when she knew he couldn’t, it wouldn’t be that simple, they weren’t even talking about the same _thing_ -

Gendry seemed to break out of the staring contest, nodded once at Jon, and then -

He stormed right past her, shoulders tense and jaw working as he studiously avoided her gaze. Her heartbeat pounded in her throat, and she realized, bemusedly, that she probably shouldn’t be gazing after him this way, not in front of Jon -

She heard Gendry’s door close, and tried to control the jitters that were taking over her stomach. Her hands felt a little bit shaky, and while she knew things like planetary alignments and astronomical units were important (were they, though?), she also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no way she could just sit still here until her assignment was done, not when she felt like _this_ -

Jon was studying her, frowning in concern, and he opened his mouth -

She didn’t have time to talk right now. Her heart wasn’t in it, her head wasn’t in it -

“I gotta go,” she rushed out, scrambling to grab her things. She fumbled around trying to gather everything into her bag. Jon nodded at her in what seemed to be a sympathetic manner - she flashed him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, before running out the door. 

She hurried around the building, only stopping to take a deep breath and fruitlessly attempt to calm her hammering heart when she was directly outside his window. She peered in and she could see him, sitting there on his bed, tense and stiff and so _fucking_ attractive -

Her heart was in her throat, and she had the briefest flash that maybe she should just…

Leave.

He had pretty much run away from her, after all, and he didn’t exactly look thrilled or love-struck or anything remotely positive right now. 

She took a shaky breath.

He might want to be alone. He probably did, that was why he had _left_ , and here she was trying to -

She didn’t even know what she was trying to do.

Her heart hammered and her stomach clenched with something that she couldn’t quite name but it didn’t matter because she had made up her mind, she would _go_ -

The universe had other ideas.

She almost choked on her tongue when, just before she turned to race off, his eyes met hers through the window. 

There was a rushing in her ears, and she couldn’t look away, and she didn’t know what to do -

She waved. Half-heartedly. 

_Smooth_.

She tried to force herself to breathe as he approached her, opening the window and gesturing for her to come in. That was good, right?

(She couldn’t help but feel like the fact that he was now back to avoiding her gaze as if his life depended on it was not exactly the best of signs, but -

No sense stopping now.)

She clambered in through the window, and he ran a rand through his hair, staring at the floor -

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like hours, and _fuck_ the fact that neither of them was saying anything was somehow deafening, and he wouldn’t look at her and she didn’t know what was happening -

“He’s right, you know.”

Her heart stopped, and she wondered if that was better or worse for her health than the marathon sprint it had been doing for the past ten minutes.

(Worse, probably.)

She needed to get her bearings here, before she collapsed or died or, worst of all, made a complete and utter fool of herself. She blinked, and took a few more steading breaths. There was only one thing he could mean, right? Because Jon had said that it was serious, that he shouldn’t mess it up, that -

That he loved her.

She should say something. She knew she should, but she didn’t answer, she couldn’t, not yet, because she had to be sure -

“Jon, I mean.”

Well yes, she’d figured he was talking about Jon, that wasn’t the part that she was hoping to have clarified -

“I do love you.”

And, there it was.

The breath she had still apparently been holding (despite all her efforts and concentrated thoughts on ‘ _n and out, in and out_ ’) shot out of her all at once. Her heart was racing again, and her chest was flushed -

She hadn’t ever thought about something like this, not really, not seriously, because they weren’t even dating and she didn’t want to get ahead of herself and then get her heart trampled like a complete idiot -

“I love you too.”

How was she so sure about something she’d never even considered until this very moment? Because she was. She did. It seemed like the simplest thing in the world, actually. 

She’d let it out in barely more than a whisper, and when she did he looked at her, _finally_ , his eyes disbelieving and maybe hopeful and _definitely_ way too blue for anybody’s own good -

His lips crashed into hers, and she would have thought she was dreaming if she wasn’t feeling so _much_ -

He was rushed, and almost frantic, and she hadn’t known it was possible to ever feel this _alive_ , and this good, and all she knew was that she _loved_ him, and he loved her, and nothing would ever get better than this -

And then he’d pulled her shirt off, and tossed it to the side, and his lips were trailing down her neck and his hands were everywhere and -

Okay, that _was_ even better.

Her own hands scrabbled at the bottom of his tee, needing it off of him, needing to feel his skin against hers, to be able to touch every part of him without anything between them. He stopped his assault on her neck just for a moment, to tug his shirt up over his head, and then it was _her_ turn to have her hands everywhere, and she would be damned if she would waste a moment of it.

He picked her up, and her legs were around his waist, and before she knew what had happened he’d deposited her on his bed. He was slotted between her legs, and the feel of his hard length against her wasn’t anything new, by now, but it thrilled her just the same. She writhed against him, and the brief exhale he let out before capturing her lips again shot sparks through her, and her pulse hammered in her throat. She felt dizzy, delirious, she couldn’t think, not about anything but him and that she wanted him and she needed him and she _loved_ him -

He cupped her breast, and she pressed against him harder, and the desperate little noises that tried to escape her were swallowed up between them. She could die like this, happily, and she honestly might, she was on fire, everywhere, and -

The pounding on the door, followed by Jon’s irate voice, was like a douse of cold water over her. She pushed away from Gendry, and their eyes met -

“Gendry, mate, we need to talk about -”

She tried to shove him off of her, and she could see the panic on his face because it was too _late_ , they both knew it, as they heard the door open, and Jon stormed in -

“- Arya.”

_Okay_ , _fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA whoops. Poor Jon, honestly.  
> Thanks to everyone for reading, I hope you're all having a good time like I am xoxox  
> (if you're not don't tell me because i'll break)  
> :)))))


	10. Chapter 10

“- Arya.”

Jon froze. He tried to make sense of the scene in front of him. He couldn’t, though, because in front of him wasn’t just his roommate Gendry, but his _little sister_ -

“Arya?!” He’s sure his voice had never sounded like that before. Like he was both drowning and being strangled at the same time. 

This couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be Arya, on Gendry’s bed in just her bra. Arya had just left their place, he’d seen her go, and besides, Arya wouldn’t be in a position like _this_ -

It was her, though. Reality crashed over him, and he clasped his hands over his eyes with a horrified yell. He was pretty sure Arya was yelling too, and so was Gendry, but he couldn’t hear anything past the screaming that was in his own head.

(It wasn’t just in his head. He _was_ screaming. Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods -)

“Get a _grip!_ ”

That was the final nail in the coffin. Not that he’d needed one. The coffin already had far too many nails in it, in his opinion. Because that was Arya’s voice, he’d know it anywhere, and he could picture her, even with his eyes clamped shut. He knew she’d have shot up by now, and she’d be standing with her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed and, if he did not cooperate, he didn’t doubt that she might even stamp her foot.

He cracked one eye open, tentatively, and was relieved to find Arya fully clothed once more. (The fact that she was _exactly_ as he’d pictured her did little to reassure him.) The colour was high on her cheeks, and she was looking at him like -

Well, like somehow _he_ was the one who had done something wrong here. 

That seemed absurdly off-base to him. _He_ certainly wasn’t the one she should be directing her indignation towards. Personally, he could think of someone else who was far, _far_ more deserving. Someone he had been making his way to have a serious sit-down with, for thinking it was alright to flirt with his sister. Thinking he could lead her on, the way he’d been, when he had someone who -

Jon’s mouth felt very dry. He almost laughed. He’d been ready to have a very serious chat with his roommate about just _talking_ to his sister. What in Seven Hells was he supposed to do with _this?_

Gendry stood across the room with his eyes wide and his mouth open and one hand in his hair. The hand that had just been all over his _sister_ , and -

Gods, he could kill him. He _would_ kill him. 

“You -”

He meant to lunge at Gendry (or something - in all honesty he didn’t have a plan, he had far too few rational thoughts in his brain at this time), maybe clock him one in the face (or somewhere a little bit lower down - that would be better, actually, hopefully he could do some permanent damage), or shove him up against the wall, or -

He didn’t move at all. He couldn’t finish his sentence, either. He was frozen in this tainted room, with no way to make sense of what was going on or how to fix the fact that he would rather be blind than see what he’d just seen. There were no words to do this justice, and there were no actions he could decide on, he just knew that everything was all _wrong_ here and it was up to him to fix it.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

He clenched his fists.

He avoided looking anywhere near Arya. He had to stay focused. He just had one little thing to do, and that was kill Gendry, and it would probably go smoother if he pretended Arya just wasn’t there at all.

“Look, Jon -”

Gendry’s apologetic stare and conciliatory tone shook him out of whatever daze he had been in. He didn’t need to hear a word of this. He was certain he didn’t want to listen to anything being said in that tone that began in that way. As if this was just a simple misunderstanding. As if he just needed to calm down.

Not today. Nope. He cut Gendry off before he could get any further into his (sure to be) deplorable half-assed apology.

“That’s my _sister!_ ”

Gods, saying it out loud was awful. It made it far too true. It made everything just a touch too real, that he had really walked in on his roommate with _Arya_. His little sister, who he’d _trusted_ him with, trusted him to look out for, even, not -

“I know,” Gendry muttered, running his hand through his hair again. He sounded quite miserable, actually. Jon couldn’t give two shits. 

“Yes, Jon, we all know each other.” Arya was clearly exasperated. Jon continued to pointedly refuse to look her way. Maybe if he didn’t see her he could pretend she wasn’t involved. He was still unclear as to why she was even in this situation in the first place. Hadn’t she heard Gendry earlier? Did she really not care that he was clearly in love with someone else? She must not have understood. Gods, that just made it all the worse. _He’d_ have to explain it to her. The thought filled him with dread, but he knew he had to make her see reason.

“But this is -”

“What this is, is completely unproductive. Jon - get out of here. I’ll meet you in the kitchen, in a few minutes, once you’ve calmed down.”

Jon bristled. She really shouldn’t be the one in charge right now. She didn’t have all the facts. Not to mention - she thought he would calm down from this in a few _minutes?_ She thought he would leave her alone with this menace ever again? She -

“ _Now._ ”

She was definitely serious. Jon ground his teeth together. He exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t particularly feel like letting them out of his sight (ever again, really). But her tone really brooked no argument, and well - 

(He didn’t want to admit it, but she could be just a little bit terrifying, when she wanted to be. This seemed like one of those times.)

Maybe this would be good, actually. Give him a second to get his bearings, figure out the best way to kill Gendry, _and_ how he would get Arya to see the truth of things. He was a little out of his depth, here. Taking a minute to regroup and devise a plan could actually be a good thing.

Jon took a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of Gendry. He raised a threatening finger.

“You leave this door open -”

“Oh my Gods,” Arya burst out, before the door promptly closed in his face. He stared at it in shock. The nerve of Arya, really. 

He banged on the door.

“Oh, now you knock?”

He didn’t need to see her to feel her eye roll.

“Take a breath, calm down, and then we’ll talk.”

Jon wondered when his little sister had gotten so bossy. That was a dangerous thought, though, leading him to wonder when she’d… changed in other ways. When she’d even started noticing boys at _all_ , when she’d -

When she’d grown up, right under his nose, without him noticing. The thought twisted in his stomach. What else had he missed? What else did he not know about? When had Arya stopped feeling like she could tell him _anything?_ When had he stopped properly looking out for her, letting her get tangled up in a mess like this?

It was his fault, in a way. He’d brought Gendry into their lives in the first place. If it wasn’t for him, Arya never would have met him. What a miserable thought.

Reluctantly, he stomped away from the door. And despite Arya _not_ being the boss of him, he found himself in the kitchen, slumped on a stool with his head in his hands, waiting for her.

This day had turned into a Godsdamned disaster. 

***

Gendry stared dumbly at his bedroom door. His heart was in his throat as his thoughts scattered all over the place, and he tried to just think logically. Tried to keep it together.

It was going terribly.

He ran a hand through his hair again. As if that would fucking fix anything. He wished, more than anything, that he could go back in time. (He’d love to say he wanted to go back quite far, to the beginning, before he’d started any of this -

He didn’t, though, not really. Just back a few minutes, honestly, would be fine.) It’s not like he could stand there and pretend he regretted any of it. Anything other than Jon walking in at the moment he did. That part, he could most definitely have done without. But it had happened, and what the fuck was he supposed to do now? What was he supposed to _say?_

He didn’t particularly want to apologize, even.

Because how could he, when being with Arya was the best thing to ever happen to him?

“Hey.” Her soft voice and hand on his arm brought him out of his wild thoughts, and his eyes met hers. Her gaze searched his, and she had a crease between her brows, and she chewed on her bottom lip in the way she always did that drove him mad and she didn’t even notice. Gods, he could kill Jon for barging in when he did. He wanted nothing more than to pick back up right where they’d left off, so he could _love_ her, properly, like he was meant to do -

She must have seen something in his face, though, and made up her mind, because she suddenly straightened and looked assuredly determined.

“I’m gonna talk to him. Alone.”

Gendry’s first thought, shameful as it may be, was that that sounded fucking great, because he still had no idea where he was supposed to start if he were the one talking to Jon. This was a blessing, from all seven heavens -

Until he realized how tortuous it would be to sit alone in his room, while the two of them sat in the kitchen saying who knows what, about him, about _them_ …

Fuck, he hoped it was over quickly. Sitting and waiting for them to be done, to see if he’d receive a stay of execution or not, was so far from how he wanted to be spending his time it was almost laughable.

(He didn’t laugh, though. He couldn’t. Not right now.)

He kissed her before he could think, before he could even sort through what he was doing. But his hand was in her hair, the other clutching her to him, and the way she looked at him when he finally pulled away gave him the slightest reassurance. Reassurance that what they were doing was _right_ , and it would all sort itself out, and it didn’t matter what Jon said because he loved her, and she loved him -

After she slipped out the door, though, all of his affirmations seemed to leave with her. He slumped down onto his bed with a sigh, his stomach in knots as he tried to both put the conversation completely out of his mind, and accurately guess what they could possibly be saying. He somehow failed on both counts.

***

When Arya crept into the kitchen, seeing Jon with his head in his hands deflated her, and all her confidence and surety that she knew what to say and how this would go left her in a hurry. As much as she knew Jon was dramatic, and she could see whoever she liked -

She still never meant to upset him. Knowing that she had done exactly that twisted around unpleasantly in her gut. She chewed on her lip as she approached, sitting down beside him gingerly. 

“Where is he?”

She winced internally at the venom in Jon’s voice. She was certain that this newfound hatred for Gendry was entirely her fault, and it just -

It wasn’t exactly how she’d ever wanted this to go. She _knew_ they should have just told him. She _knew_ something like this would happen. She shook her head to herself, and tried to just focus on moving forward. There was no point thinking about what they could have done different - they _hadn’t_ told him, and now here they were, and she had to just get through it. Wallowing about her stupid past decisions wouldn’t help either of them.

She took a steadying breath. 

“Just - I wanted to talk. Just us.” 

Jon met her eyes then, finally, and gestured silently for her carry on, before crossing his arms over his chest. He was scowling, and his jaw was tense. She sighed internally. She was in uncharted waters, here, and she wasn’t sure how to begin. Might as well start with something true, though, right?

“I’m sorry you found out this way,” she began, her voice conciliatory. Jon burst from his seat almost immediately, though, and began pacing, his shoulders stiff and his voice hurried as the words rushed out.

“Arya - you have to listen to me. He’s been seeing someone, I _know_ he has -”

Oh, Gods.

“I know, that’s - that’s part of what we have to talk about.”

She’d been hoping she wouldn’t have to spell it for him. She should have known that was too much to ask. Did he really think she was that obtuse, though? She thought that, if she wasn’t so focused on calming him down, and making him understand, she might have found the time to be a little bit insulted.

“Fuck talking about it! I’ll kill him, I swear. He can’t just -” 

“Gods, would you listen?” She grabbed his arm, and attempted (with more effort than she would like to admit that it took) to steer him back towards his seat. She managed to shove him back down, and he looked up at her in shock and consternation. She hurried to continue before he could get going on another tirade, winding himself up all over again over something that wasn’t even happening.

“He’s not seeing _someone_ , he’s been… seeing me.” She waited, impatient, for it all to fall into place for him.

“What?”

Okay, so. That clearly wasn’t enough. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“All that stuff he said earlier, that was… it was about me.” Jon blinked at her, his face now blank and, honestly, far too lost considering all of the facts that he had been presented with.

“But he - _what?_ ”

Arya ran a hand over her face. Of course it had to be this difficult. _Now_ what was she supposed to say? Sighing, she sank onto the stool beside him, and tried, once more, to make him understand.

“Look, we didn’t mean for it to happen. It was an accident, really. At the beginning, at least. And then -” She froze, for a second, because his expression was changing, just a little, but just enough -

His eyes were widening, and his mouth was gaping a little, and it was all the encouragement she needed, and the rest of it rushed out without her even thinking. “I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t know what telling you would… I didn’t know what would happen.”

It was more true than she would have thought. How many times was this going to happen to her today? Would she ever know the truth of _anything_ before it fell right out of her mouth?

“Arya, you can tell me _anything_.” The earnestness on his face made her chest feel tight. 

“Yeah. ‘Course. I know that.” Jon merely raised his eyebrows at her. 

“I _do_ ,” She insisted. She knew she could have told him. She just hadn’t. Because keeping it a secret hadn’t even been about Jon, not really, it had been about _her_ , and being too fucking scared to admit what she really wanted -

She swallowed. She wasn’t sure how to go about making him understand something like _that_. Before she could even think of where to start, Jon let out a resigned sigh.

“So you - this is real, then?” She brightened instantly at his words.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s real.” Who cares that it took her so long to figure it out? She knew now, finally, and it was real for Gendry too, and Jon _knew_ , so they could finally -

“But if -” Jon’s eyes were widening further, and the look of horror that was creeping onto his face caused her giddy thoughts to come to a crashing halt. Gods, what now? They were going backwards, he’d seemed like he was getting it, like he was calming down -

“It’s been you this whole time? With the - with the _knickers?_ ” His face was white, and his eyes were almost bulging out of his head, and his gaze was focused to her right, unable to meet her eyes -

“Oh, Gods -” Heat flooded her face. How had she forgotten about that? Realization crashed over her that the knickers were just the beginning, just the very first shred of evidence of what her and Gendry were doing, and since then -

Jon had been very aware that Gendry was with someone. Because there were plenty of signs, plenty of _sounds_ -

“I take it back. I take it all back. You cannot tell me _anything_. Please don’t. There is so much that I _don’t_ want to know -” The words were rushing out, and Jon dropped his head back into his hands, and honestly - she couldn’t really blame him, at this point. 

She did the same.

“We can never talk about any of this again, honestly, I’m more than fine with that -” She muttered it through her fingers, but she’s pretty sure he heard her. Or understood the gist, at least. On _this_ , she knew they were on the same page.

It didn’t provide her much relief. Jon let out a pitiful moan beside her, as if all of this had taken an indescribable toll on him and he might never recover. She didn’t know what to say next, her mind too focused on how terribly agonizing this was, and the silence stretched between them. The more seconds that ticked by, the more uncomfortable she felt, and she just really needed to move this show along before she evaporated into a mortified mist -

She let out a heavy sigh.

“So. What happens now?” As soon as the words slipped out, she knew what he would say, but she still hoped -

“Now I talk to Gendry.” 

Damn. 

“But I already explained everything -”

She felt a lot better when _she_ was the one delivering the message, because who knew _what_ Gendry would say. Did Jon _really_ need any more details? He’d literally just told her that he didn’t want to know more. What even was the point of this? Couldn’t they all just stop torturing themselves and move on?

(Of course they couldn’t.)

“Arya. You know I have to.” She knew no such thing. “I’m your brother.” 

She couldn’t stop her eye roll, or her grumbling under her breath about how she could make her own decisions, and she didn’t need him to look out for her, or ensure he protected her ‘honour’ or whatever-the-fuck he thought he would accomplish -

It didn’t get her anywhere. 

(She knew it wouldn’t. She didn’t know why she bothered sometimes.)

“Jon -”

He’d just risen from his stool, and his name burst from her almost against her will. Because in everything she’d managed to finally make clear to him, there was one thing she’d forgotten to explain. The most important thing, the only thing that should matter. The only thing that _did_ matter.

“I love him.”

And despite everything that had happened, saying it spread a warmth through her, and made her stomach flip. She battled against the smile that was trying to steal across her face, and hoped she didn’t look quite as deranged as she felt. The words felt a little bit strange in her mouth, still. Like something somebody else would say, something from someone else’s life, something she never would have dared to hope for in her own story.

And Jon’s face barely changed, as his eyes searched hers, but she could tell. He understood, for real, and he knew what something like this meant to her, and -

Their talk would go just fine. She refused to accept anything else, so.

***

At the knock on his door, Gendry’s stomach dropped. 

Fuck.

He’d really wanted Arya and Jon’s conversation to be over, but he hadn’t thought much further into the future than that. Hadn’t accounted for that meaning his _true_ torture might be about to begin.

He steeled himself, and opened the door to find a glowering Jon Snow.

Great.

Gendry set his jaw and moved to the side, gesturing for Jon to enter. He supposed they were really going to do this, then. He couldn’t say he was particularly enthused. He shut the door behind Jon, and the two men glared at each other with crossed arms and furrowed brows.

Jon seemed to sense that Gendry wasn’t in any hurry to move the conversation along, and finally cleared his throat.

“So.”

Gendry just blinked at him. If Jon wanted to talk, let him talk. He wasn’t about to volunteer any information here. Not when he didn’t know how his chat with Arya had gone, not when he didn’t know where anything stood, not when he still wasn’t sure what in seven hells he was supposed to say for himself -

“You’ve been seeing Arya. This whole time.”

Gendry gritted his teeth and debated whether or not to respond. Jon hadn’t particularly phrased it as a question. His face looked awfully expectant, though, as if he weren’t just stating facts that they all knew to be true. Gendry begrudgingly indulged him.

“Yes.”

“She’s the ghost.” 

Gendry felt a flush run up the back of his neck as he recalled the conversations he’d had with Jon, about the ‘mystery girl’ he’d been seeing. He supposed, in hindsight, that him and Arya really should have tried harder to keep it down. Now that Jon _knew_ it was her -

Fuck, this was uncomfortable. What was he supposed to say? Was there anything he _could_ say?

“That’s… yes.” This only seemed to cause Jon’s brow to furrow even further.

“It’s a bit fucked up, mate.”

Shit. He’d hoped Arya might have gotten through to him, a little, smoothed his ruffled feathers, maybe, but he was starting to look positively murderous. Gendry opened his mouth, unsure of what he was even trying to accomplish.

Nothing came out, and Jon’s face just darkened even further, and he actually looked fairly threatening -

(Gendry was pretty sure he could take him, though, if it came to it. Jon was scrappy, sure, but he definitely had the size on him, and if he swung at him he’d just have to -)

He broke off from this line of thinking, picturing Arya’s fury if him and Jon were to actually come to blows. She’d kill the both of them. He _had_ to calm him down. He cast his eyes about the room frantically, trying to come up with something that sounded halfway reasonable.

“Look, I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. She’s just so -”

“Do _not_ finish that sentence.”

No problem, since he hadn’t been sure where he was going with it in the first place.

“Right. Yeah.” Gendry cleared his throat and ran a hand across the back of his neck. Fuck, he wished he had _some_ inkling of what he was supposed to say or do here. Nothing was coming to mind, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was really, _royally_ fucking this up.

“She tells me you’re in love.”

Gendry’s breath left him in a rush.

“We are.” He felt hope spread through him, for the first time since Jon had barged in on them. His heart stuttered at the thought of Arya telling someone else that she loved _him_. (Because maybe, just maybe, in the time he’d been sitting there waiting, thoughts had run through his mind that she hadn’t meant it at all, that she’d want to take it back, that once she had a minute to really think about it she’d realize she’d had it all wrong -)

She hadn’t taken it back. He hadn’t fully understood how terrified he’d been that she might until he heard that she hadn’t. She’d told Jon, though, and it was all out in the open, and it was more real than he’d ever hoped for, and he didn’t give two shits if Jon wanted to knock him out -

“If you hurt her -”

“I know.” Gendry fought to keep the smile off of his face. He felt unbelievably light. Invincible, actually. He could handle Jon and all his threatening-older-brother bluster. He could handle _anything_ if it meant him and Arya were really gonna have a go at this.

“She’s got a lot of brothers and we’ll _all_ -”

“I got it -” It’s not like he was a stranger to Arya’s many brothers. It didn’t matter how many she had. He had every intention of ensuring he never hurt her, and, remarkably, her brothers did not factor into that in the slightest. 

“Let me threaten you properly, at least, would you?” Jon interrupted him in exasperation, and Gendry blinked.

“...Sure.” It was the least he could do, he supposed.

“We will _all_ rip you to pieces, slowly, limb from limb. And Arya will watch, and smile, and not do a damned thing to save you.” 

Jon looked happier than he had all day, and Gendry got the uncomfortable feeling that he was picturing this far too vividly, and definitely getting a little too much joy out of it. He frowned. 

“That’s… wow. Okay.”

***

Arya peered cautiously down the hall, waiting (im)patiently for Jon to be done with his dramatic and entirely unnecessary ‘talking-to’ with Gendry. When she (finally) saw him stomp to his own room, she slid into Gendry’s, quiet as she could, and closed the door gently behind her. 

“How’d it go?” 

He was sitting on the bed, and the moment his eyes met hers she felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her because _no one_ should be allowed to look like that (especially not to look at _her_ like that). His eyes were clear and crystal blue, and just a little bit crinkled in the corners while he tried not to grin at her. She cursed her stupid heart for fluttering in her chest at the sight of him, and her stupid brain for forgetting what she’d even just said. Had she asked him a question? She must have kept moving towards him, though, because soon enough he’d grabbed her and tugged her onto his lap. One arm had snuck around her waist, and his other hand cupped her face, gently, while she tried to maintain some semblance of human function. She let out a shaky breath, and her eyes dropped to his lips, and she was pretty sure they were supposed to be having some kind of conversation but she didn’t quite care -

“D’you think, if I ever hurt you, your brothers would rip me to pieces while you watched and smiled and didn’t do a thing to save me?”

Whatever spell he’d had her under was broken, and she couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed. She tried to control the snort that threatened to escape her as she took in the unconcerned expression on his face.

“Yes.” She quirked an eyebrow just slightly, and his face broke out into a grin, and _Gods_ that was all it took for her to be right back to square one, breathless as her heart raced as she tried (and failed) to remain unaffected by him. She had the briefest moment to try to recover before his lips were at her ear, murmuring to her before trailing softly down her neck.

“Hmm. ‘S’what I thought.” 

Her head felt cloudy, and she tried to steady her breathing and think of something other than the fact that the hand that been on her face was now tangled in her hair and her pulse was pounding and she could somehow feel it in her whole body -

“You alright with that?” She was proud of herself for formulating more than a single word, at this point, no matter how choked it ended up sounding. His hand tugged on her hair, just gently, and she tried not to gasp as she tipped her head back and his lips carried on, by her collarbone now, and she could _feel_ his cock beneath her, hard for her already -

“I think I’ll manage,” he chuckled against her, but honestly, she no longer had a clue what either of them were talking about and she could not care less -

“What did I say about keeping this door _open?_ ” 

Gods, she could absolutely murder Jon. Was he going to make it his life mission to ensure she was interrupted at all of the most inopportune moments? His voice was oddly shrill as it pierced through the door and through her haze, causing Gendry to let out an almost pitiful groan as he abruptly tore his lips away from her. At least he hadn’t barged in again. He’d learned _something_ from the incident earlier.

“What are we gonna do about _that_ , though?” Gendry sounded positively tormented, and, distraught as she herself was, she couldn’t stop the breathless chuckle that escaped her. 

“We’ll just have to get creative,” she murmured. His head jerked up, and when his eyes met hers they seemed almost black, and she tried to calm her hammering heart as she grinned at him wickedly. She whispered a few suggestions to him, and the way he groaned into her neck at her words while his fingers dug into her had her cursing all the Seven Hells that she couldn’t have him right then, Jon be damned.

(She didn’t, though. They’d traumatized Jon enough for one day, after all, hadn’t they?)

***

They’d intended to go somewhere else - anywhere else. But by the time they’d reached his truck -

The thought of having to drive somewhere seemed entirely unreasonable. Nobody had ever accused her of being particularly patient. As she dragged him to the back seat, though, her intentions more than clear -

His breathless curses and hurried hands let her know that he didn’t particularly mind. 

(Jon probably would, though, if he knew. And as happy as she was to not be hiding this from him anymore - she was positive there were some things that it was best he still know absolutely nothing about.)

***

And after, Gendry lay in the backseat of his truck, with Arya draped over him as he ran his fingers through her hair, idly wondering if his heart rate would ever slow and if he would ever wake from this dream. He remembered, vaguely, that he’d intended to take his _time_ with her this time, to love her, properly, slowly -

She’d had other ideas, though, and he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been happy to follow her lead. And he knew they’d have their work cut out for them, as far as Jon went, and they would still end up sneaking around far more than would be considered ‘normal’ given the reality of their living situations -

But he’d have plenty of time to love her. To worship every inch of her, to learn her so well he’d know her body better than even his own. To learn every part of her, inside and out. They’d find time, he was sure of it, and when they did he wouldn’t waste a damn second of it.

(He couldn’t even begrudge Jon, not really. Not when he thought of the way Arya would flush, and bite her lip, and be only too eager for him when there was just a slight hint of danger, a chance that they might get caught -)

“What’re you thinking about so loud up there?” She raised her head to meet his eyes, her lips still swollen and the colour still high on her cheeks. Her eyes were light, and teasing, and full of warmth, and he was so _grateful_ , more than anything else, that the answer was so clear and simple now.

Clear, and simple, and so _easy_ to express to her.

“Just that I love you, is all.”

And the way she smiled at him -

Fuck, if this _was_ all a dream, his only wish was that he never woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say the world's largest thank you to everyone who has read this story! I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that it put a smile on your face!
> 
> I'm sure I am not alone in this but I definitely have a hard time with confidence when it comes to writing. Every comment along the way helped more than I could ever say, and encouraged me when my brain would tell me not to bother continuing. So to everyone who participated in the comments please know that I can never thank you enough and how much your words helped make sure this story got followed through to the end!
> 
> I don't want to say goodbye to these crazy chaotic kids so... there could be some outtakes in the future ;) but I make no promises as I love to have nobody expect anything of me, that's normal right
> 
> Thanks again for reading, I am just here for a good time so I sincerely hope you had one! xoxoxo


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